


Not in the stars to hold our destiny

by Stria (Asia117)



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: (ah well kind of), (technically at least), Dom/sub Undertones, Exhibitionism, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Nonbinary Character, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Sex, Sex Tapes, Sex Toys, Sexual Frustration, kind of, ruined orgasm, wrong number trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2018-11-21 04:38:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11350014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asia117/pseuds/Stria
Summary: “What the fuck,” Even murmurs, and Isak almost wants to mock him, but he refrains. He’s not 16 anymore. “Everything okay, Isak?”“Peachy.” Isak doesn’t look at him. “Go find someone else to talk to.” Miss him with that shit.“Wow, what the fuck. Get off your high horse.” Even sounds irritated, too. Good. Isak just snorts.“When you’ll take off that stick from your ass,” he hisses, and then goes up to Mikha. He doesn’t need to make a scene in front of everyone.[Or, the one in which Even and Isak can't stand each other, but they still end up together eventually.]





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii! So like this is my first long fic project, and I am a bit afraid of it ahahah everything is outlined and it should be like, five chapters plus prologue and epilogue, which brings us to seven. I have the first chapter ready and the second chapter half written, and will try to update weekly. Also, I'm not sure which tags to use, so I'll add more as I go!
> 
> One thing about the original character here: Agát is Linn's girlfriend and something that I and (mostly) [Lise](https://theskamgirlsdeservebetter.tumblr.com) created. She's sami and she lives in Trondheim and she's an amazing person and if you ask Lise about her, she'll be glad to talk to you! (Also in general, Lise's a great person tbh).
> 
> Also, many many thanks to [Wyo](http://http://wyoheartsmusic.tumblr.com/) for being there when I was plotting the fic, and for reading the chapter and being encouraging. She's amazing <3
> 
> AND thanks to [Desert](http://archiveofourown.org/users/desert_coffin/pseuds/desert_coffin) for the Arab/ic knowledge and corrections, without which Sana wouldn't be a real Moroccan! <3

In retrospect, Isak would say it all started because of Sana.

Not in a bad way, absolutely, because Sana is his best friend after Jonas, and she contributed greatly to Jonas’ happiness, and he’s really not about to rain on that parade. He loves Jonas, and he wants him to be happy, and maybe he feels a bit guilty about having ruined his relationship in high school still, but that’s neither here not there.

So, Sana. She’s the one who invited Jonas for an impromptu game of basketball one afternoon, after they had all gathered in the kollektivet living room to watch some sort of political movie that Isak won’t ever understand, but that, between two out of three of his flatmates, his best friends, and his flatmate’s girlfriend, it’s become his reality.

(It started a bit strangely, because Noora didn’t use to be like this. She now refers to the herself she was in high school as a _problematic liberal_ with an upturn of her nose. Then political-sciences-student Eskild came around, and then Noora and Jonas briefly dated before she started dating Eva—that was awkward at first—and when Linn started to bring Agát around she was interested in politics too, and Noora went full-on radical. And meeting at the kollektivet to see films and talk about stuff had come naturally, because Jonas and Sana still live with their parents, and since the kollektivet changed location to accommodate four people instead of three—in a lovely four-bedroom-and-one-living-space flat with a balcony going around most of it—they had the most living space than anyone else; ironically, that’s another thing that Isak can put the blame on.)

They went to play basketball, and when Jonas came back from that game, he was a changed person. He’d always more or less know that if he wasn’t bisexual, he was at least bi-curious—he’d told Isak with a hesitant smile, and Isak didn’t have the courage to tell him he’d been his first crush, not really—but he never found someone who was worth it. Until Mikael.

Mikha, became the absolute light of Jonas’ life from that moment onward. Seeing him always texting with a glint in his eyes would have made Isak jealous if it wasn’t for all the affection he felt towards Jonas. Besides, Mikha was a great person, the right kind of mix between political and hipster that was so undeniably _right_ for Jonas that Isak couldn’t avoid being happy. Jonas absolutely deserved it and yes, of course he could bring Mikha to the kollektivet, Isak would be happy to have them.

(The get-togethers at the kollektivet became a moment where Isak would look helplessly at Sana and then at all the couples they had around them, and then pointing his fingers to his temple, mimicking a suicide. Sana just laughed; she didn’t really mind being single.)

Isak can say him and Mikha were tentatively friends, but he’s a man of habit, and including other people and other routines in his life is something that requires time. He’s got his uni work, and then his friends, and they were the same ones since high school; and he has acquaintances at uni, but no one that he can really consider a friend.

So, he’s not reacting well.

“Do we _really_ have to do it? I mean here?”

Jonas look at him, patiently. “We’ve been dating for almost a year. I think it might be the time.”

“It’s not that,” Isak waves his hands around, a bit uselessly. “Why _here_ though. Why not somewhere else.”

“Because you have the space and Eskild already said yes and that he’s really excited to meet them? I’m not sure why you’re so reticent, Ike.” He’s just saying that, because Jonas is one of the people who knows him better than anyone else, and he knows exactly why Isak is being reticent.

So, he just grumbles and shrugs. “Why are you asking for my permission then, if Eskild is already so enthusiastic?”

Jonas just looks at him, unblinkingly. “Ike.”

“I know, I know. Fuck, Jonas, I don’t know. Let’s do it, at least I already know Mikha and they’re nice.”

Jonas raises an eyebrow “You bet they’re nice, do you think I’d date someone who’s not nice?”

“You were literally about to date Lena three years ago, may I remind you that?” Isak ducks just in time to avoid the swat Jonas is about to give him. “What? It’s true! _Oh my god but is your friend really gay but like really gay but ew_ ,” he says, in a high voice. “ _And are those lesbians?!_ ”

“Okay, okay, got it, no need to rub it in.” Jonas rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “I’m now dating a very nice person, that much is true.”

Isak smiles despite himself. That much is true.

 

***

 

“Wallah if they let you make tea another time I’m gonna make them drink the whole _Norskehavet_ out of spite.” Sana smacks his hand unceremoniously, and then takes two small boxes out of her bag. “I’m teaching you how to make _Atay b'na3na3_ so at least you won’t make me want to hang myself at your threshold in warning for the people coming here.”

Isak will probably never get used to Sana’s peculiar brand of dramatism. Sana’s Arab peculiar brand of dramatism, as she likes to state. And Jonas says Mikha’s more or less the same way. “Atay bi nana,” he repeats, trying to get the pronunciation right.

Sana watches him with something like pity in her eyes. “Props to you for trying. Now,” she takes the kettle and starts it. “Making tea is an art, and the only thing you can change in this recipe is the sugar quantity. I’ll know if you change something else and wallah I’ll send a jinn to haunt you till you come crawling and asking for forgiveness.”

Isak remembers when Sana was hesitant about showing her Moroccan heritage to other people, and he’s really glad it changed for her. “I’m all ears,” he says.

Sana opens the boxes. There’s black tea in one, and fresh mint in another. “Okay, so you know how the tea has an initial bitterness when you make it? We have to avoid that.”

Isak doesn’t know. He doesn’t even drink tea. He just nods.

Sana takes the tea leaves and puts them in a pot. “I have to gift you a teapot,” she grumbles.

“You know you’ll be the only one using it?” Eskild and Noora use bagged tea and the kettle.

“I know, this is why I’m giving you one, so I can drink decent tea.” Sana pours a bit of water over the tea, stirs fast, then throws the water away. “This is important. Don’t lose any tea leaf in the process.”

“And this is to avoid the bitterness.”

“Bright boy.” Sana pours the rest of the water over the tealeaves, then adds the fresh mint, and takes out the sugar from the common shelf to add that one too. “If you stir it with a spoon, it’s gonna be two jnoun haunting you, not one.”

Isak watches her pour the tea from the kettle to the pot to the kettle. “You’re making me have performance anxiety.”

“Good.” Sana refuses to catch his innuendo. “This is how you’ll make tea this Friday. I just saved your ass.”

“I’m not hosting, and there will be beer.” Isak accepts the glass of scalding _Atay b'na3na3_ and smells it. It seems good. “Can we study now?”

“We can study now,” allows Sana. She looks satisfied.

 

***

 

“I just don’t understand why do we have to do it _here_ , honestly.” Isak knows he’s complaining, but he’s really jealous of the kollektivet, okay?

Eva shrugs. “I mean it makes sense, if you think that Jonas it at yours more often than he’s at his parents’ at this point.” She tests the wheel of the roller and makes a face. “I really need something more stable, these are going to fall off the first soul grind I do.”

“That’s what the frame is for,” says Isak. “And fuck, I mean I know that rationally it’s the best choice, but I’m still not looking forward on having the house full of people I don’t know this Friday.”

“That’s what the frame is for,” mocks Eva. “How about you leave me to rollerblading and think about being a good host for Mikha’s friends? Sana says they’re good people.”

“Nah, Mikha’s hosting, I’m not gonna lift a finger anyway.” Isak makes a face. “And I’m not questioning the fact that they’re good people, Eva, honestly. I’m just not that keen on using the kollektivet as a hustle-bustle. For people I don’t know.”

“You’re gonna know them by the end of the evening, dude.” Eva puts the bearing in its place, fastens the screw, makes the wheel spin and nods. “Ooh, this seems cool. I’m trying these ones on, wait.”

Honestly, Isak is just happy he stopped pretending to skate and admitted he just went to the skate park just for ~~eyecandy~~ Jonas. Eva got into it more and more, and he still doesn’t know how she did it. She says she wants to try roller derby if she ever leaves inline.

He watches Eva spin slowly on one heel. She beams at him. “They’re the ones,” she says.

 

***

 

“Please, allow me to understand. You said _yes_ to the get-together and you’re not even gonna be there?” If Isak could roll his eyes more, he’d be staring into his brain right now. He leans on the rail of the balcony, looking inside the bathroom window.

Eskild doesn’t even look at him, eyes fix on the bathroom mirror, putting his mascara on. “Is that a problem, baby jesus?”

“That you consented to having people in this house and you’re not even gonna play host? Yes.” Isak is pouting. He knows he’s pouting. He can’t do anything about that.

This time, Eskild does raise his gaze and chuckles upon seeing his expression. “We both know Mikha’s playing host. They _love_ that kind of shit, Isak, you have nothing to worry about.”

Isak is still pouting. “You leave me alone to go hooking up; Noora leaves me alone to go and be romantic with Eva. Fucking _Linn_ leaves me alone to go to Trondheim, is that a conspiracy?”

Linn chooses that moment to come on the French door, and of course she hears Isak. She just raises one eyebrow and shakes her head. “Maybe if you went out more you could find a significant other too, instead of complaining about mine.”

Isak feels a tiny bit bad; Agát is a great person, and when she comes to visit Linn, it’s always a delight to have her at the kollektivet. Still. “Linn, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

Linn raises her second eyebrow. “I don’t believe you.”

“Okay, okay. Maybe I did mean it a bit like that,” Isak allows. “But I just hate this kind of things, and you’re all leaving me.”

“Don’t be a baby, there will be Jonas with you.” Linn comes out on the balcony and gives him a pat on the back. “If I can get out of this house to go to Trondheim for a week, you can survive a night of awkward talking.”

At that, Isak snorts. Linn’s getting a bit better since she started therapy, but depression is not a thing that simply goes away. Luckily she doesn’t take herself too seriously, and Isak couldn’t live without her dry humour. “You’re just doing that because you’re getting some.”

Linn smirks. “You’re the only one in this house that doesn’t get some on a regular basis, Isak. Better not joke about that.”

Eskild laughs so hard that he needs a glass of water to stop wheezing after that.

 

***

 

The message from Jonas says only _are u really late for a thing hosted at urs_ and Isak doesn’t even answer, just focuses on running faster to reach the kollektivet in time.

Or, not even later than he already was.

It wasn’t his fault, honestly; he was just chilling in the library, trying to finish a paper for his nanobiology class, and then he started fucking around on 9gag while he was taking a break, and before he knew it, it was 19:45 and he really needed to go home or else.

(He can’t tell Jonas that he was really fucking around on 9gag, though. His hipster ass is already going at it because he likes _vintage memes_ , and Isak doesn’t see the end of it.)

(And besides, the meme golden age was around 2010 with the ragefaces, Jonas, it’s not Isak’s fault if you can’t recognise true internet pop art, honestly. Ragefaces age like wine; they get better each year.)

He honestly doesn’t like running, he doesn’t like it one bit. He loves biking, but running is just so pointless, and his lungs burn after 30 meters, and that time Eskild tried to rope him into going for a run at the park because he liked the florist was fucking hell.

He gets to the front door, opens it with the last bit of breath left in him, and he’s welcomed with a chorus of _oooooooooooo_ from the living room.

“The host has deigned us of his presence,” Jonas almost yells, and the whole room laughs.

“Two hours late like a true diva,” Mahdi lays it on thick, and Isak would answer, he really would, but he’s just too breathless right now. So he just raises his middle finger and collapses on the couch on the last spot left, between Jonas and some dude he doesn’t know.

Mikha is, once again, half sitting on Jonas, and they do the honours. Isak smiles feebly at Elias (Sana’s brother, and they really look alike), Mutta, Yousef, Adam, and the dude on the other side of him, Even. “Give me something to drink and I’ll be better,” he murmurs to Jonas, who rolls his eyes and gives him his beer.

A nectar from the gods, honestly. Isak has never been happier of drinking beer. They should give it the status of national treasure. International treasure. Global treasure.

“So, Isak, what do you do?” Yousef is looking at him tentatively, and okay, Isak can recognise the good intentions, and he has to actually try and strike a conversation because Jonas is his best friend, and because he actually likes Mikha.

Besides, even Mahdi is busy talking with… what was his name? about the advantages of owning a Nikon Coolpix. Isak still can’t believe it. “I’m studying medicine. With Sana actually,” he adds, nodding towards Elias.

“Oh, yeah, Sana did talk about you actually. Are you the one who set the lab on fire while trying to balance a solution?” Isak feels the blush coming up on his cheeks.

“Listen, it wasn’t my fault if the bottles were not labelled correctly.” He might be a bit too defensive when it comes to the Arson Accident, but honestly, the bottles were unlabelled, how could he know what would happen? “Besides, it was just a small flame and I put it out in thirty seconds.” While Sana just looked at him and laughed, and she _still_ hasn’t let it go. Honestly. Why is Isak even friends with her.

(Because she’s amazing and studious and their friendship goes back to his second year and he wouldn’t change her with anyone else. But he’s digressing.)

“Amateur. I once set fire to a whole darkroom, I thought Mutta was about to kill me because he had to develop like 500 photos again.” It’s Even who spoke, and Isak turns towards him a bit incredulous.

(Also, that was his name! Mutta!)

“Now I want to hear this story.” Even smiles, and wow, he’s got a cute smile. Mikha didn’t tell him they have such a cute friend, honestly.

“Only if you tell me yours, I can’t be the only one embarrassing himself here.”

Isak raises his eyebrows and looks pointedly towards Magnus, who just hit Yousef in the eye because he was gesticulating too much. “I think you’re safe, mate.”

Even laughs, and gesticulates between himself and Isak. “I meant here, mate.” He says the last word with a mocking tone, and Isak blushes a bit.

“Well, _bro_ ,” he says, and Even starts laughing. “We’ll just have to see if your story is embarrassing enough, then.”

“Okay, _dude_ ,” says Even, and makes a grand gesture with his arms. Magnus uses a lot of hand gestures too, but when Even does it, it’s cuter. “You asked this on yourself.”

Isak braces himself, puts his chin on his hands. “I’m all ears, _dude_.”

“So basically I’m bipolar, and I was having an episode, and I was manic, and I thought that it would have been amazing to show Mutta my undying love by making a candlelight dinner in his special place… the darkroom.” Even is smirking. “He wasn’t happy. At all.”

“That’s honestly nothing; Magnus’ mum once sent a resignation letter signed with the name of a person she was pissed off with.”

Even laughs, and Isak wants to make him laugh forever, honestly. “She looks like a pretty cool person.”

She is. She’s the best person Isak has ever met, and if it wasn’t for her helping him when his dad took to the bush, he wouldn’t have a relationship with his mum. Mamma wasn’t okay for a long time, but thanks to Magnus’ mum, he could help her find help, and now she’s okay, she’s good, and they’re starting to be something resembling a family again. “She’s honestly the best. And you got nothing on her.”

“But was that embarrassing enough to explain you embarrassing story, then?”

“Not really.” Isak shakes his head, and Even is looking at him with an exaggerated incredulous expression.

“Oh, that’s how you’re putting it, _bro_?”

Isak shrugs. “Not my fault if you’re not embarrassing enough, _bro_. just leave us mere mortals in our puddle of embarrassment and go do what your people do.”

“My people? Who are my people?” Even massages the back of his neck and raises his eyebrows at Isak, lips curved into a smirk, and Isak rolls his eyes not to be _too_ obvious.

“I don’t know, that’s something you should know. Or are you lost?”

Even looks at him intensely for a couple seconds, then raises his eyebrows. _Again_. “Yes, I’m lost. Please do not bring me home.”

That’s definitely flirting, if Isak’s ever seen flirting. He smirks. “I’m not sure we have space for you in the flat.”

“That’s not a problem at all.” Isak’s pretty fucking _sure_ that the pause Even makes is just for added drama. “We could share your room.”

“Of course, how could I not think about that,” Isak states flatly, trying (and failing) not to smile too much.

“That’s why you need a roommate, honestly. Since you’re so forgetful and all.” Even is smiling big, and Isak almost forgets they’re not really alone in this room.

Of course, that’s where Magnus comes in, because Isak can’t actually have nice things.

(He loves Magnus, he really does, but Magnus is the greatest cockblocker of them all. Isak’s convinced that the only reason why Mikha and Jonas are together is that they met when Magnus wasn’t around.)

“Oi, aren’t you getting a little bit too chummy here?” Isak fervently hopes he’s not blushing, and resorts to flip Magnus out, hoping not to appear too bitter.

“Actually I was just telling him that he’s got a long way to go to beat your mother when she’s got an episode.”

At that, Magnus’ face lights up. “You’re bipolar too?”

Isak smiles, and leaves them at their discussion. He wants to mingle a bit, because for as much as he’s drawn to Even, he doesn’t want to disappoint Jonas.

(He’ll deny this till he’s in a wooden onesie though.)

He talks a bit with Elias, mostly about Sana and why he’s never been at their house (he’s not sure why, it just never happened) and he _needs_ to come because their mum’s _Tajine_ is the best thing ever, and honestly, he can’t call himself Sana’s friend if he doesn’t come at theirs.

Elias is nice, cute, and if there wasn’t Even in the same room, Isak is sure he would have been drawn to him immediately. He’s doing Oriental Studies because of the Arabic, and he says it feels a bit like cheating, but he does like it a lot. Isak is charmed.

He talks about molecular biology with Adam, and he can’t believe he went to Bakka to do that in university, but to each their own, he guesses.

From the other side of the room, Jonas winks at him, and Isak smiles. Okay, he’s actually enjoying this evening, and Mikha’s friends are cool. He’ll admit that, he can admit when he’s wrong after all.

And, well. Even is really cute, and Isak has to thank Mikha and Jonas because he could meet him; it’s been a while since he’s found a natural connection with someone, and he’s glad about the easy banter they had going, glad that Even is in his enlarged social circle, or otherwise who knows how they could have met.

“Come with me for a cigarette,” Jonas elbows him and flics a cigarette at him. Isak doesn’t habitually smoke, but he has the occasional one, and Jonas started smoking since the first year of university, and it gives him time to decompress a bit.

They’re out in the balcony, and Isak sits down with his eyes closed, cigarette in hand. “They’re nice,” it’s all he says, and he hears Jonas snort lightly.

“They are, aren’t they?” The click of a lighter, and Jonas exhales slowly. “I’ve seen you hitting it off with Even.”

There’s no judgement in his voice, and Isak smiles. His last boyfriend had been Chris Schistad in high school, and then university has been just a series of hook ups and random dates, no time for an actual relationship and no connection with anyone. “He’s particularly nice,” he says, and opens his eyes to take the lighter from Jonas. “And cute.”

“He’s cute alright.” And _now_ there’s teasing in Jonas’ voice. Isak kicks him lightly, and he chuckles. “It’s time you found someone to settle down, Ike.”

“And deny the world this hot bod?” Isak gestures to himself, smirking. “No but seriously. _Que sera sera_. I did feel the sparkle though. And that was easy bantering.”

Jonas smiles big and exhales, putting his head on Isak’s shoulder. It’s a nice spring night, and they watch the cyan sky in silence. Isak wishes he’d brought his beer along, but he’s too lazy to get up and go socialise again yet, and Jonas understands that, and he’s grateful.

There’s some noise coming from the bathroom window, and they’re sitting right under it. Isak figures that since Jonas is here, nobody would just go there to make out, and doesn’t lift a finger.

“So, Isak.” That’s Yousef voice.

“What about him?” And… that’s Even’s voice.

Isak exchanges a look with Jonas. Eavesdropping is _bad_ , and it’s always the cause of shit in fiction, but also… they’re literally about to talk about him. He doesn’t want to move.

“You two hit off really fast.” It sounds like Yousef is smiling. Isak smiles too; he wasn’t the only one to see it.

“Uh.” Even doesn’t seem enthusiast about it.

“And he’s really cute, isn’t it?”

“I mean he’s not ugly, Yossi. I don’t know what you want me to tell you. I don't even like him, he's so full of himself. Stop asking me questions.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Isak’s pretty sure his jaw dropped. Jonas is looking at him with an open mouth and raised brows, and Isak doesn’t know how to react.

He knows he’s hot shit, he might have had insecurities when he was in high school, but it’s all gone now, and he knows he’s good-looking, and he might not be the most extroverted person, but he’s _good_ at social skills, and that was banter and if he appeared self-conceited, then Even was too. Christ, what the fuck. What kind of presumptuous asshole.

They wait for the light to turn off in the bathroom, and then Jonas voices Isak’s thoughts. “What the fuck. Who the fuck does that.”

“I don’t fucking know.” Isak snorts and shakes his head. “Well then. He could have been cute, I guess. Good riddance.” He’s irritated.

“ _A bit self-conceited_. Like, maybe if he took the stick out of his ass he could have seen that he was looking in the mirror.” At that, Isak laughs.

“Don’t say anything to Mikha, please. I don’t want to complicate things.”

Jonas shrugs. “As you want, bro. But I’ll find difficult to act polite towards him now.”

Isak laughs again. “It’s honestly nothing, I’m just irritated.” He gives Jonas a pat on the back and they head back inside.

There, he gets into a very heated conversation with Mutta over which videogame series is better, if Fifa or PES (definitely PES, but he can admit that the latest Fifa is kicking asses left and right) and he almost forgets the whole balcony ordeal, but then Even comes up to him, a smile on his face, and his irritation is back in full force.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a gamer,” says Even, and wow, he’s got come courage to come up and talk to him after what he said to Yousef, honestly.

“Well, life’s full of surprises.” He’s being short on purpose, and he turns his back to Even to look for someone else to strike a conversation with. He doesn’t have time for his bullshit right now.

“What the fuck,” Even murmurs, and Isak almost wants to mock him, but he refrains. He’s not 16 anymore. “Everything okay, Isak?”

“Peachy.” Isak doesn’t look at him. “Go find someone else to talk to.” Miss him with that shit.

“Wow, what the fuck. Get off your high horse.” Even sounds irritated, too. Good. Isak just snorts.

“When you’ll take off that stick from your ass,” he hisses, and then goes up to Mikha. He doesn’t need to make a scene in front of everyone.

He doesn’t look at Even for the rest of the evening, and when the night ends, he pointedly avoids to say goodbye to him. Well, that’s a missed connection if Isak ever heard of one. He doesn’t even feel bad about it.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He checks his phone first for notifications, and what he sees makes him stop. A message from Even, and the preview says it’s a picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okaaaay my dudes, this is the first chapter, and... I'm nervous lmao.
> 
> I have a premise to make; I am absolutely aware the whole _stuff_ around which rotates this fic is a bit unrealistic. I am aware that if I had read something like that I would have gone ???????????????????  
>  But also, like. That's something that happened to me in real life. (Not the whole hate to love, but the precise thing that happens at the end of this chapter). So like, unrealistic but apparently possible.
> 
> So, yeah, happy reading!

_A few months later._

Isak’s life is shit.

Not true, Isak’s life is not shit. He’s got a great and promising academic career, a maybe-proposal for an experimental thesis that would be his actual dream, a Sana Bakkhoush to slap him on the back of his neck whenever he feels like slacking off and play some games instead of studying, amazing flatmates who don’t let him forget his meals even when he’s around finals and deadlines and he just wants to die drowned in papers. He’s got a good relationship with his mum, finally; they text and call often, and he sees her once a month for a nice lunch. She’s started seeing someone, and she’s the happiest she’s ever been. And he’s got friends whom he loves, but they’re also kind of part of the problem.

It was one thing to meet Mikha’s friends and they were all nice—bar the stuck up asshole of course. And it was one thing to get along with Mutta, Adam, Yossi and Elias, because they were all amazing people and he had much more fun playing games since he got Mutta’s Steam name and they could play together. They were honestly amazing.

But _merging_ —fucking merging—their groups and having a weekly get-together, well. That was another thing.

Of course, nobody listened to Isak when he grumbled that five people were already enough for their weekends. No, of course not. They had to add another five for a sparkling total of ten people. Nine people and a mop pretending to be James Dean. And Magnus _loved_ that mop pretending to be James Dean.

(Jonas had kept the promise and hadn’t said anything, so it wasn’t exactly Magnus’ fault. Even was perfectly nice with everyone else but him, of course, and he always joked with Magnus about living with the bipolar disorder, and Magnus was so enthralled it was almost comical. If not for the fact that Even was a stuck up wannabe James Dean, of course.)

(But also, Magnus was the kind of person who could get along with everybody.)

So, yeah, they hung out together. Better, Isak was forced to see him at least once per week

(and this not counting the random encounters and stuff that could have happened because, oh, Yossi actually forgot his snapback at the kollektivet and he was just with Even and can Even come in? Of course, and Isak just gnawed on his bottom lip and said nothing)

and it was starting to get on his nerves. Honestly, at the beginning it was easy enough to ignore him. Even didn’t look at him, he didn’t look at Even, and their friends were mostly confused by the fact that they seemed to get on really well at the beginning, but made no comment. And it was almost nice, even if Isak had to breathe his same air, honestly. Almost nice.

Of course, the niceness couldn’t last, because Isak couldn’t really have nice things in his life. And it was Magnus’ fault, of course it was Magnus fault. The dude, by his own admission, couldn’t fathom how _two of his favourite people in his life didn’t get along_ , and he started trying to make them talk with each other, acknowledge each other, _at least look at each other please Isak, I’m dying here_.

To which Isak answered that Magnus could just die because he wasn’t speaking to Even anytime soon. And Even, that fucking James Dean for poor people, he had the audacity of telling him to take that stick of his ass. And then it was war.

At least now Magnus regretted it.

Kinda.

“Honestly bro, I mean, I can’t actually breathe from the UST when you two are in the same room.”

Isak makes a face. “What the fuck is an UST.”

“Unresolved Sexual Tension. Which you two totally have. You don’t fool me with the riling each other up act. You just want to fuck.” Magnus is wearing a smug expression, and Isak can see Mahdi and Jonas out of the corner of his eye. They look exasperated.

“Magnus, I don’t know which fucking acronyms do you use, but I can assure you there’s no,” Isak makes a pause, and makes air quotes just to be more obnoxious. “ _Unresolved Sexual Tension_ here. Just the fact that we can’t see each other.”

“Seconded.” Even talks like he’s chewing a gum and, ugh. Honestly, can he just _shut up_ when Isak is trying to talk to his friends? “Besides, Mags, trust me. You’d see very clearly when I’m interested in someone.”

Isak scoffs. “Yeah, he goes all Nice Guy on them, and tips his fedora. M’lady,” he says, pretending to tip a hat on the top of his head. “Did you know that it’s _his_ tory an not _her_ story?”

“Oh, you’re so good at imitating yourself,” Even doesn’t look impressed. “Only you wear the signature Douche Snapback, could have fooled me.”

Before Isak can answer, Elias comes in between them, arms outstretched. “Okay, okay, we got it. You don’t like each other. We really get it, even if you think we don’t. Now, if you don’t stop disrupting our evening, I’m pouring mustard seeds here and making you pick them one by one, no broom allowed.”

“But—” Isak starts to say, but Elias stops him with a withering look.

“ _Then_ I’m making you specifically plant all the seed and watch the plant grow. When it’s high enough I’ll hang you there if you don’t shut up.”

Isak is glad that the penchant for dramatism runs into the Bakkhoush family; he still has to meet their parents but he bets it will be _something_. He mimes closing his mouth with a zip, then, when Elias is not Looking, he makes a face at Even.

Even rolls his eyes and starts talking with Yossi. Fuck him sideways.

 

***

 

“I guess it’s just that I don’t really want to be nice to him.” Isak is concentrating on cutting up the cherry tomatoes, barely raises his gaze.

“Something along the lines of ‘I’ve stopped being a good girl’?” Noora examines the capers critically, then puts them under water to get rid of the salt. “I never know when capers are actually good. I hope I didn’t get scammed.”

“Nah, you’re good with these things.” They went to the _bondens marked_ and Isak got to witness Noora’s ability when it came to choose veggies to eat. “Also I think it’s more something along the lines of ‘he’s a stuck up piece of shit.”

Noora looks at him, takes the Greek olives from their bag and washes them too. “I really don’t understand why he behaves that way with you, he’s perfectly nice with me and the others.”

Isak knows she wants him to their film nights, he knows and he vetoed it, and Jonas supported him because Jonas is a good mate and supports him even when his opinion is that Isak should talk to Even so they can at least have some sort of closure and going back to ignoring each other.

(Isak told him he was stupid for suggesting something like that, because someone who was that nice in front of him and then called him _self conceited_ behind his back couldn’t be someone who wanted to have a closure conversation. He was sorry that the others had to endure them, but he really couldn’t avoid it.)

“Yeah, it’s just me that he hates, probably.” He thinks that Even could very well talk shit behind everyone’s back, but he doesn’t know how to bring up the issue without revealing what’s the problem he’s got with him, and he doesn’t know if he wants to do that. “I’m finished with the tomatoes, what now?”

“Uh, start with the garlic please?” Noora smiles big, and Isak is already dreading the fact that his hands will smell like garlic for three days if he’s lucky. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that version of Even, Ike.”

Isak smiles small. “Don’t worry, it’s not the worst thing I had to endure, honestly, and I don’t have to see him when I’m alone so I can deal with it.”

“But still.” Noora is cutting up the olives in perfect little squares, avoiding the seeds. “It’s not nice.”

Isak knows what Noora’s talking about. She’s still burned by the relationship she had with William Magnusson in high school; she wasn’t good for a long time afterwards, and she couldn’t sleep alone in her room, preferring Linn or going at Eva’s.

(When she started dating Jonas it was a bit better, she didn’t seem so scared of men like she’d been in the immediate post-William. She could always bear to be with Isak and Eskild because they were probably non-threatening because they were gay, but her hanging up with Jonas and talking about politics, and then her actually going out with Jonas, even if briefly… they had been all happy about that.)

(Then, with Jonas it was nothing serious, and Isak remembers Noora coming home one night, when they had just moved in the new kollektivet, and she was dazed. She told him with a shaky voice that she’d kissed Eva, and Isak just hugged her for a while. The whole queer community partying was Eskild’s prerogative.)

“It’s not the same situation, luckily. I give back as good as I get.” He doesn’t look at her, knows that it’s better if he doesn’t because it’s still difficult for her to talk about these things, and doesn’t want to force her at all. “He’s just a giant asshole, and one day I’ll take off that stick he’s got up his arse.”

“And put something bigger there?” Noora snorts.

Isak sputters. “Are you going with Magnus’ theory according to which we have to fuck it out? Which side are you on?”

Noora takes the garlic and throws it in the pan, leaving it to brown a bit. Then, she put olives, capers, tomatoes, and a pinch of salt, lowers the heat and covers the pan. “I’m just saying that it does look a lot like hatesex could solve it.”

Isak sometimes hates his friends.

 

***

 

“What do you think of this one?” Eskild is looking at him a bit impatiently, and Isak squints a bit.

“No, please, I won’t go clubbing with you if you wear this thing.” It’s a hideous yellow fluo wife beater, and not Eskild’s style at all. They don’t even have a fluo party on their schedule, so Isak doesn’t really know where that comes from. “Just take a graphic tee or something?”

He won’t admit it to anyone else, but he does enjoy going shopping with Eskild, even if he’s forced to review makeup without knowing anything about it. But Eskild will take him to the Kat Von D booth and ask him his opinion on this or that, and he’ll just nod a bit dumbly. For the parties, it’s Eskild who dolls him up, he doesn’t really care about which mascara is it, if it does make his lashes longer and beautiful.

“I just want that fluorescent adolescent feeling, you feel me,” Eskild is watching at himself in the mirror. “But I don’t think I have the right undertone for this yellow, probably.”

“I mean, it’s fluo.” Isak makes a face. “You don’t really need to go with undertones.”

Eskild laughs. “Touché. But still, maybe fuchsia’s better.”

With Eskild gone to explore the fluo section, Isak wanders off a bit, examines the jeans critically. He really needs a new pair, because he’s only got one pair that he wears, and when he washes it, then it’s a bit of a problem. He takes up a pair of skinny jeans, and then he lets himself be tempted by a graphic tee that could indeed be cool to wear for clubbing.

When he goes back to the dressing rooms, Eskild is waiting for him, wearing a dark burgundy shirt and looking very serious. Isak squints again. “What the fuck, do you have to meet Lito’s parents or something.”

“Oh god, no.” Eskild brings a hand over his heart. “That would be terrible. But I was actually starting to look for something for the discussion of my thesis, what do you think about that?”

He doesn’t look like himself at all. “You look very sleek.”

“That’s not what you think, I can read you like an open book baby Jesus, don’t lie.”

“I mean, you can’t exactly be the usual Eskild when you have to discuss a Master’s thesis, can’t you?”

Eskild laughs. “Okay, that’s true. Does it fit though.”

And that, it does.

 

***

 

“This pasta is amazing, mamma.” Isak knows he shouldn’t talk when he’s eating, but the pasta is indeed divine.

Mamma smiles. “Thank you, my dear. It’s a simple recipe, really. Thorvald gave it to me.”

“When do I get to meet him?” The pesto goes amazingly with the olives, the cherry tomatoes and the mozzarella. Isak loves summer.

“Let me organise things a bit, but I hope soon.” Mamma has a secretive smile on her lips, and touches his hand briefly. He’s still not used to touching her, not after the years when her illness was at its worst and she couldn’t be touched, had to be restrained, and now they have to gain back that bodily confidence with each other. Isak knows they will, they just need a bit of time.

“Well, just let me know so I can wear a nice shirt, please.” At that, mamma laughs and shakes her head.

“You’re nice with anything, dear, you know that.”

Isak shrugs, a bit self-consciously. He wants to make a good impression on someone who’s making mamma so happy, honestly. “We’ll see about that.”

“I promise.” Mamma looks at him, her eyes full of love. “For now just tell me, how are things at your kollektivet?”

Isak smiles, he’s glad he can still live there, honestly. “Linn’s still going strong with Agát, she’ll come in a few days, I wish you could meet her because she’s a force of nature.” And she can drink everyone under the table, but that’s better if mamma doesn’t know. She doesn’t need to know _everything_. “Noora’s still with Eva and they’re probably about to become vegan, judging from what she cooks when it’s her turn. And Eskild is still with Lito, and he’s starting to seriously think about his thesis discussion. Which is great, but also will mean a lot of never-ending conversations about the Israel-Palestinian conflict with Jonas, and I will have to be present for that.”

Mamma laughs lightly. “And you?”

“I’m a single pringle. Not ready to mingle. I prefer to graduate first, and I have my buddy for that.” Mamma met Sana a few months ago, and she took a fierce liking to her and her tea. Isak’s actually a bit glad that he now knows how to make it.

“Take your time, my dear.” Mamma’s smiling. “You can always adopt some grandkids for me whenever.”

Isak laughs. “I’ll adopt a football team, of course. Just you wait.”

“Then you’ll have to find a nanny because I’m not babysitting, I hope you know that.”

“I’ll get Thorvald to convince you, then.”

“I hope he’ll like to babysit eleven kids. Plus the reserves.”

 

***

 

When Isak comes back home, Even is there, lounging on the couch like he owns the place, and that thought alone makes his blood boil. Fucking entitled prat. “What the fuck are you doing here,” he states, without even saying hello to anyone.

Even looks at him, bored. “If you had greeted everyone you’d known that Elias is here.”

(Elias lately is _here_ an awful lot, and considering that he didn’t even know anyone up till like a month ago, the thing is super shady. He’s nice, and Isak doesn’t mind having him, but he seems super friends with Noora now, when one month ago she was just Sana’s friend. Well. He doesn’t mind it, if not for the fact that more often than not he has Even with him, and really, Isak is this close to make a space for Even on the balcony. It’s summer, he’ll survive, and he won’t contaminate the interior of the house.)

Isak rolls his eyes. “Of course, he brought his lap dog.”

Even flips him off without looking at him, and Isak tries to breathe off the rage he feels coming up. He’s a fucking entitled douchebag, and he has _no right_ to ignore him. In his house. He turns towards his room, and that’s when Even speaks.

“Have you tried fucking out that bitterness of yours, Isak?”

He needs all his strength not to turn again and just punch him square in the face. “Of course, because resorting to tell me to ‘fuck out’ something is so mature and open. Noora should hear you, honestly.” He doesn’t wait for Even to answer, goes up into his room and falls face-first on the bed.

When he had to deal only with Chris Schistad everything was easier.

 

***

 

 

***

 

There was a time, in high school, in which Isak was self-closeted and an insecure mess. A time in which he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror because he thought he was just lying to everyone. A time in which he suffered from bouts of rage that left him breathless and guilty.

He came out, and then he went to therapy for a year, and now he manages anxiety and insomnia pretty well, and the rest is gone with the closet. He’s better now, has a community around him, and he likes himself fully, both internally and externally.

Isak looks at himself in the mirror, and he’s standing there shirtless, with his new jeans on. He’s got nice quadriceps, and he built up nice abs. He’s fucking hot shit, and he’ll surely hook up this evening at the bar, he needs a bit of release and going there with Eskild and Lito will help a bit. He smirks at himself, winks at his reflection, raises one arm to show up his pectoral. He’s not that muscly, but he’s athletic enough, and he’s just so satisfied with what he sees in the mirror.

On a whim, he takes his phone and takes a couple of selfies, staring suggestively at the camera, his lips arranged in an artsy pout. He’ll get all the boys to his yard tonight.

Besides, the fact that these jeans make his arse look great surely will help.

 

***

 

Lights flashing. Bodies moving. A body moving against him. Tall, dark, handsome. Isak throws his head back and lets himself be kissed on the neck, and the guy uses his teeth and he’s just on the right side of rough, just how he likes it. He drank a bit, not enough not to be aware of his surroundings, and he’s just here to have a good time.

When the dude ask him if they want to take that back to his house, he just smirks and nods.

 

***

 

The morning after, as promised, he takes a sneaky selfie with the dude half asleep before kissing him chastely and thanking him for the night. He sends it to Eva when he’s on the bus, with the caption _look what I did bring to the yard_ , and Eva answers with the eggplant emoji because she’s a menace. Isak wants to gift her the eggplant emoji vibrator for her birthday, but if he does he suspect he’ll hear it in function when Eva sleeps at the kollektivet.

(When they chose the room placement, Isak had chosen the one sharing a wall with Noora’s because he didn’t want to hear Eskild having sex, and Linn had a very deep sleep when Agát wasn’t there. Noora was kind of dating Jonas at that time, but he doesn’t know if they even had a sex life, and he never heard from her. He had figured he’d been safe with that placement.

And then Noora started going out with Eva, and it was the end of his nights. They reached an agreement after a few months, and it was that if they had sex at the kollektivet, it must have been before midnight, or in alternative they should let Isak know so he could find another place to sleep for the night. Eva had objected that the kollektivet had an amazing living space with an amazing couch, but Isak wasn’t about to be sexiled on the couch, seriously. He preferred going at Jonas’ and play videogames or watch trash films.)

On a whim, he opens his photo roll and selects one of the pics he took a few days ago. The Isak on the screen is looking at him seductively, a pouty smirk firm in place and his abs in view. He hits the share buttons, goes on his contact list and selects Eva, just when the bus hits a bump; he doesn’t lose the grip on his phone for some kind of miracle, and quickly hits send. He briefly wonders why the chat with Eva doesn’t open automatically, but leaves it and opens it to write the proper caption he couldn’t write before. _U wish u had all that_ , he says, and Eva sends a 3-seconds audio telling him that _Noora saw now be prepared_.

He won’t ever hear the end of it, with Noora seeing. Eva sends another message. _Rest in pieces Ike_.

 

***

 

When he comes back home, it’s to find Lito in the kitchen, preparing _künefe_ for breakfast. It’s Isak’s favourite thing, and the best after a night out.

“Had fun yesterday?” Lito’s smirking and resolutely not looking at him. Isak knows he’s got his neck mauled from the guy yesterday, and he just shrugs.

“It was nice,” he concedes. It was more than nice. The dude had found him when he was at his first invisible, on his way to get buzzed, and invited him to dance. It had been fun, and the night had been funnier; the dude was a total power bottom, and Isak did like that.

“Eskild blabbed a lot about how his _baby Jesus_ was now having one night stands. It was almost as if I was dating a parent.”

At that, Isak snorts. Lito and Eskild have been on-off for the past few years, and decided to date casually for a bit, because Lito was about to get into the diplomatic career like his father, and they agreed that it wasn’t worth a heartbreak. They had fun, they went on dates, and Isak knew Eskild had made peace with the fact that it wasn’t something long term. It was difficult for him at the beginning, but Eskild’s one of the strongest people Isak knows, and it’s easy like this. “I’m sorry you had to deal with him in full guru mode.”

Lito laughs lightly, and puts the _künefe_ on the table. “It’s nothing. He loves you very much.”

Isak knows that, and smiles big. “He’s a hassle, but a hassle I wouldn’t change for anything else.”

Lito puts a big pot of tea on the table too, and then calls out: “Breakfast’s ready!”

Eskild is the first to arrive, then Noora, who smiles and thanks Lito for the food, then Linn with Agát. Agát hugs Isak tightly and kisses him on both cheeks, and Isak is still not sued to her casual touches, but Linn is radiant when she’s with her, and that’s a good thing.

“So, how are you? I see you had an encounter with a wild bear.” Agát’s eyes are shining with mirth.

“Oh come on, as if you never do that.” Isak rolls his eyes, and serves himself a big portion of _künefe_. “You all do that, so you don’t get to judge.”

“It might be that we’re less kinky than you, though, honestly.” Eskild is smirking, and Isak refuses to take the bait.

“I share one wall with Noora. I know _exactly_ what I’m talking about.” At that, Noora starts coughing furiously, and Isak smirks satisfied. “She doesn’t talk about it, but I need brain bleach for what I heard.”

“I swear to god, Ike, when you’ll get a boyfriend I’ll shoot videos of you two fucking in your room, so you can’t talk anymore.” Noora is red as a tomato, but she doesn’t look upset.

“It’s just a healthy sex life, come on.” Linn doesn’t look impressed. “I mean, if you want _I_ can give you pointers on how to deal with kinks. Since I live with wimps apparently.”

Isak throws his head back and laughs. “Only if I can have a practical demonstration of your abilities, Linn. I wouldn’t settle down for anything else.”

“You don’t want that, trust me.” Agát raises her eyebrows once, twice, and then goes back to her _künefe_.

Isak doesn’t press, but Linn points at him with her fork and mouths _wimp_ , and that makes him laugh again.

He’s really glad that they could stay all together, because without Eskild in particular he wouldn’t have a place to live, and without he and Linn he wouldn’t have come to terms with his sexuality, and without Linn and Noora he wouldn’t have normalised mental illness and wouldn’t have had the courage to go up to Mags’ mum and ask for pointers for his own mum, and ultimately he’s so happy he can have a functional life with the people he cares about, and that’s all that matters.

He stays back to help with the dishes, because even if his instinct is to slack off, he doesn’t want to have both Eskild and Noora on his back. It’s an easy job when there’s five people doing it, and he’s soon back into his room, ready to start on a summer assignment he needs to know if he wants to be able to do the experimental thesis he’s dreaming of.

He checks his phone first for notifications, and what he sees makes him stop. A message from Even, and the preview says it’s a picture.

He got Even’s number saved when Mikha created the group chat and added everyone, and Isak couldn’t stand to see the unsaved number popping up among the others. He didn’t expect Even would send him messages though, that was something new.

When he opens it, he has to stop a bit and take two deep breaths. The pic is a selfie, and Even is—Even is shirtless in it, laying on the bed with an arm thrown behind his head and his chin slightly raised in a challenging pose. His eyebrows are raised, the eyes seem to mock Isak and the fact that he’s having a reaction, and his lips are curved in a pout that seems to say _just fucking kiss me_ , and he’s got defined pectorals and a skin that’s milky white, full of moles that normally Isak would want to chase with his tongue. What the fuck. What the everloving fuck.

Isak sits on the bed, and looks down where his dick has started to harden in his pants, mutters _traitor_ , but he can’t deny that the picture is… wow. He doesn’t even know how to describe it. What the fuck is happening.

Is this some sort of sick joke Even is trying to play on him? Some sort of _gotcha_ because Isak is apparently self-conceited and can’t resist a mop pretending to be James Dean? Why is Even sending him these things.

When he goes into their conversation, his blood stops flowing for a moment. Even didn’t send him that pic out of the blue, Even sent him that selfie because Isak—someway—shared his own shirtless pic with Eva _and_ with him. His mind is reeling, and he thinks about the bump in the road and him almost losing his phone. Christ. Christ. What the fuck. What the fuck. Why the fuck didn’t Even ignore this, why did he send something back, why didn’t he send him a message of mockery, something, _anything_ , but not a sexy selfie.

What is he supposed to do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally sent a pic to the groupchat I have with my classmates bc I clicked on the icon by mistake, don't @ me.
> 
> (Also: the invisible is a cocktail that's... really strong and you take it if you want to get drunk when the alcohol is too expensive. It's made with white rum, vodka, tequila, triple sec, gin, and like some juice to give it a decent flavour. I always take maracuja.)
> 
> And as per usual, if you want to comment, that would make me very happy!


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He comes biting his hand to avoid screaming. He hates that he’s so affected by these pictures, he hates that Even is so self-conceited and terrible, and there shouldn’t be chemistry between them, at all. And yet, he’s there, in the shower, after one of the best self-induced orgasm he’s ever had since high school times.  
> Fuck Even Bech Næsheim. He needs to get fucked. Preferably by Isak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaah so this comes a bit later than desired, because I had friends at home for like ten days and I really couldn't leave them in favour of writing, so here it is and I'm sorry I'm late! (I'm sorry I'm latte!)
> 
> If you're interested in the film they're watching all together, it's [this one](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Investigation_of_a_Citizen_Above_Suspicion), bc if I don't put Italian things in my writings I'm not happy.
> 
> Happy reading!

The message from Even is there, in his phone, and Isak is afraid to open it again, almost as if it were a bomb.

(It’s fucking stupid, and Even surely can see that he visualised it, but also he really can’t bring himself to open it again.)

He’s trying to write up something, trying to come up with something else that’s not _Even shirtless and pouty_ but his mind refuses to stop thinking about that, and he really should start studying but he fucking can’t, and all thanks to that stupid pic of that stupid person thinking he’s the reincarnation of James Dean. Every time he closes his eyes, there’s Even looking at him, challenging him to do something, his bicep bulging a bit because of the position it’s in. His lips are full, even fuller because of the pout, and Isak is torn between jealousy and wanting to bite them.

It’s almost like a mockery, honestly. Isak can’t deny the fact that Even is extremely attractive, and when his mind goes back to the night when they met, he’s a bit sorry for the missed connection. If Even wasn’t so stuck up, Isak would probably be getting some right now.

(Well, not that last night wasn’t amazing, honestly, but it would be great if he could get some on a regular basis; he doesn’t have Eskild’s skills and doesn’t know how to get regular fuckbuddies like he does.)

And the worst part is that if it wasn’t for what he heard, Even’s brand of cockiness would be right up his alley; he came out dating Chris Schistad, and he started dating Chris Schistad because of his self-assuredness and his always slight challenge in everything he did, every word he spoke. Isak likes a challenge, more so when he was in high school and he had just discovered that wow, sex could be amazing indeed, and having someone mouthy under him in empty rooms at parties was what he liked most at the time.

Now it’s different, a bit more varied, but still, the fascination has stayed. Of course, someone mouthy but ultimately not bad is different than someone who’s got a broom stick so far up his ass that you can see it if he opens his mouth. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

 

***

 

He eventually gives up on trying to study, wears a pair of sweatpants that doesn’t look so ratty and heads to the skate park without saying one word.

He’s got a BMX, bought back when he still pretended to care about doing things at the skate park. It’s useless, just an expensive thing he owns and he could very well sell it and buy a cheaper city bike, but he’s quite attached to it now.

He doesn’t often take it for leisure, but it’s nice to bike as fast as he can and feel his muscles burning. Nice, and distracting. He pushes himself, tries to pedal as hard as he can, gaze fixed on the road. It works a bit, and his quadriceps are burning by the time he’s arrived.

The skate park is always the same, with a lot of people because it’s summer, and Jonas trying to do a complicated trick Isak doesn’t even want to know. Eva greets him as soon as he sees him, skates towards him smiling. “I wouldn’t have expected to see you here, honestly. You and that mauled look.”

Isak shrugs. Even’s neck, stretched out long and pale in his selfies, haunts him still. “I just thought it would have been nice to see what you were up to.”

“That idiot is trying to do a 720 gazelle flip before he mastered the 360, I can’t even. That’s how’s going.”

Isak honestly never mastered one (1) gazelle flip so he doesn’t know what to say. “Is he going to break something?”

Eva laughs. “Mikha brought the first aid kit just in case.”

Isak waves his hand in Mikha’s direction, and normally he’s have gone up and talk to them, but he feels a bit spacey and not present, and the fucking picture is still impressed on the back of his lids, and every time he closes his eyes he sees it and he’s about to scream in frustration. “And you? What are you doing?”

Eva smirks. “I’d try to do a backflip but I’m waiting for a day Noora can come and bring a first aid kit just for me.”

Isak snorts. “You better, I don’t want you all broken.”

“But Jonas is okay?”

“Jonas is more resistant than you. Remember when they had to screw his leg in three points because of how bad it was?”

(It had been around their last year of high school. He and Jonas had chosen to be _gå-russ_ , and with the money saved, going somewhere nice after school was finished. Only, Jonas broke his leg trying to do a trick on the skate two months before their departure, and he still had the screws in it when they took the plane for Fuerteventura. It was such a pain to pass the controls at the airport, and then it was such a pain to listen to Jonas being pissed off because he couldn’t surf like he wanted to.

Nonetheless, it had been a nice week of lounging in the sun and picking up people on the beach.)

Eva laughs. “I mean, sooner or later I’ll have that done too, if I really start to do freeskating.”

Isak smiles weakly, and watches her skate backwards towards the half-pipe, watching for people before throwing herself down without a care in the world. Isak almost stays, wants to wait for Jonas and talk to him, explain to him what happened because he’s the only one who knows, but he feels restless, jittery, and can’t really stay in one place.

He knows he’ll be questioned later, because Jonas’ attentive, and because he knows that Jonas promised him that he wouldn’t let Isak struggle without paying attention to him anymore. Not after how much he struggled with his sexuality in high school. He can live with that.

 

***

 

Like, who does Even think he is? He could have just ignored the picture (which would have been the sensible decision to make anyway), but instead he chose to send one back? Who the fuck does that, especially when they didn’t even like each other? What was his deal? Did he want to scare Isak into a non-existent gay panic? Why the fuck didn’t he just, like, die and leave Isak the fuck alone? Honestly, fuck him for thinking he could have some effect on Isak, with his fucking plump lips and his fucking hair, and his fucking skin, and his fucking whole existence. Fuck him sideways. He’s just a smug asshole that needs to be put into place, and he won’t fucking win over Isak this way, he fucking won’t, and he’ll be hit with Isak’s wrath and he won’t even see it’s coming.

Isak comes back home angry, and does it before he can think better of it, or overthink it. He’s sweaty from the biking, and his neck is littered with love bites, and his gaze is dark when he looks into the camera. He raises his chin to expose his neck more, lets just a bit of his pectorals into the shot, and then examines the result with a critical eye.

His eyes are big and serious, and his lips curled into a mocking smirk. It’s less playful than the first photo he sent, but that was meant to joke around with Eva, not to tell Even that he can go fuck himself, because Isak’s not letting him do as he pleases. If he thinks Isak is scared by a simple selfie, then he’s dead wrong, and he’ll pay for it. Because Isak’s hot shit, and he was hot shit when he was flirting with all the girls in high school, and he’s hot shit now when he can pick up guys in bars without batting an eye. And Even won’t even know what has hit him.

He sends the selfie, tries not to think much about it, and leaves his phone under his pillow so he can study.

 

***

 

When he returns to his phone, a few hours later—his studying session wasn’t that satisfying, but at least is was a proper session and he wasn’t that distracted—Even has sent a photo back. Isak takes a deep breath before opening the message, and then goes all in.

Even’s head is not all in the picture, and Isak can see just his mouth, teeth straight and white, lips stretched around where he’s biting his index finger. His neck is stretched out too, in an imitation of Isak’s shot before, only his is unblemished. And this time the picture doesn’t stop at his pectorals. There’s also delectable defined abs, and he can see the beginning of V lines before the picture cuts abruptly.

Isak curses silently, then passes a hand on his face, then curses again.

He adjusts himself in his pants, and really tries not to think about it, wonders if Even was affected as he’s feeling right now, with an uncomfortable tent in his pants and ready to jump out of his skin. He curses again.

It feels like his first experiences all over again, when he was shy and young, and he discovered that kissing could feel more than boring, and that sex could be something he could lose himself in, and everything was a bit overwhelming in the good way, and he was feeling perpetually horny after years of wondering if there was something wrong with him, because he couldn’t really come with girls.

Of course, when he was younger he didn’t actually hate the people who contributed to his sexual awakening, now he just wants to see Even without that smug smile. But he’s definitely affected, and his body is reacting, and that just adds to his resolution to win this challenge, whatever this is.

He can’t take a picture to send back right now, because he’s affected, and it would show, and he doesn’t want it to show. He takes a deep breath, puts down the phone and goes to take a shower.

He doesn’t really mean to do it, he just wants to wash off the sweat from the biking, but he’s still hard, and when he goes to wash himself he lets out an involuntary moan at the shiver that runs down his spine, and from there it’s easy to co and stroke himself fast, biting his hand not to moan too loud, images of a long neck and plump lips branded behind his eyelids.

He comes fast and hard, almost loses strength in his legs afterwards. And he can’t believe he just jerked off to Even’s pictures, he really can’t.

The picture he sends is a blurry shot of his body at the bathroom mirror, with a skimpy towel on. It’s just colours and silhouettes, but he’s satisfied with that. A lot.

 

***

 

It becomes a thing.

Even always sends a picture back, without failing, and Isak can’t leave him thinking he’s winning the match, he can’t make Even think that he’s affected, and he always retaliates, and it still hasn’t stopped.

He doesn’t really know what to think, and he doesn’t want to think about it too much, or he’s sure he will start to freak out, and he doesn’t want to freak out. He wants to enjoy the boner-inducing, thrill experience, and not think about what it is exactly, and what it means. For once, he doesn’t want to overthink it. Just… let it be A Thing.

A Thing where he wakes up in the mornings wondering what picture he’s going to see (pectorals and abs and v line and a hint of hair), and A Thing where he spends at least twenty minutes with a hard on trying to find a position to send back a pic that’s equally as provocative and not too revealing (his leg coming out from under a skimpy towel after the shower).

A Thing where he gets in the shower and gets his hands on himself because he can’t keep the hard on, he really can’t, and if he doesn’t get his hands on himself he knows he’ll spend the day frustrated and unable to concentrate on anything.

He starts slowly, because he wants to savour everything, he doesn’t want to rush it. He’s methodical, closes his eyes and doesn’t even pretend not to think about Even.

_White skin, pectorals and abs well defined and toned. V line. Curly hairs at the base. Pouty lips, white teeth, pink tongue. Big hands. Slender neck._

He comes biting his hand to avoid screaming. He hates that he’s so affected by these pictures, he hates that Even is so self-conceited and terrible, and there shouldn’t be chemistry between them, at all. And yet, he’s there, in the shower, after one of the best self-induced orgasm he’s ever had since high school times.

Fuck Even Bech Næsheim. He needs to get fucked. Preferably by Isak.

 

***

 

Or not. What the fuck. He does say some shit when he’s sex stupid.

 

***

 

“Do you really think I need to fuck it out with Even?”

Jonas looks at him with a bit of pity in his eyes, and then concentrates very hard on slicing the brunost. Isak is almost grateful. “Do you want the cruel truth or the nice lie?”

Almost. “I don’t know, honestly. I want a nice truth.”

“There is no nice truth.” Jonas shrugs a bit helplessly. “It’s just that you had that thing where you hit off with a person and then discovered he was a shithead. And then you rile each other up and that’s… I hate to admit it but Mags—”

“If you say the words _Mags_ and _right_ in the same sentence I swear to god, Jonas—”

“… But you have to admit it’s a strange situation, isn’t it?” Jonas finishes slicing and opens the cracker packet. “I don’t want to force you or anything Ike, you know that. But also it’s a strange situation and we can all see it.”

Isak is not stupid; he knows it’s a strange situation, and he knows it’s very visible from the exterior. “Fucking it out is not my style, you know that.”

Jonas nods, takes the corn packet from Isak’s hands and put it in the pan. “I know that, and you know I support you and I’m always on your side.”

Isak nods. “For what is worth, I’m sorry it’s kind of affecting everyone.”

“Dude, he was a shithead to you, and honestly I totally understand if you are a shithead back. One word and I tell this to Mikha and they’ll tell everyone, you know that.”

Isak is about to answer, but his phone pings. Even sent a picture, and he doesn’t want to open in front of Jonas, because as much as he can hold a poker face, he doesn’t trust himself in front of the person who literally knows him better than anyone else. He just hums, ignores his phone, and busies himself with crisps and olives.

“Is it ready?” Mikha is on the threshold, watching them like a hawk. Jonas’ face literally transforms into something more open and tender, and Isak once would have been jealous of that. Now he just smiles up at Mikha and shakes his head.

“Fucker here wanted to do ‘proper popcorns instead of microwaveable ones’,” he does air quotes. “So we’re waiting for that.”

Mikha smiles and shakes their head. “I’m sure they’ll be great,” they say. “What was the flavour again?”

“Matcha and dark chocolate.” Jonas is almost beaming. Isak is almost embarrassed. “Noora suggested it.”

“You’re almost a gourmet chef, babe.” Mikha comes inside and gives Jonas a fleeting kiss on the nose, and then on the mouth, and then Isak stop watching because he feels a bit like a creep.

He takes crisps and brunost and brings them in the living room, where everybody but Sana is already reunited, waiting for the film to start. “Help me, they’re being lovebirds again,” he says, no heat behind his words.

Linn snorts. “Is this the part where you moan over your love life again Isak? Because if it is, I’m going back to my room.”

Isak has the decency of putting down the food before flipping the bird. Linn just laughs and snuggles in her blanket; Agát is coming next week when she gets her time off from work, and meanwhile Linn is the most sensitive to the cold. “I don’t moan over my love life, thank you very much.”

Even Noora laughs in his face this time. “Ike, you can’t fool your flatmates, honestly,” she tells him, and takes a crisp to eat slowly, in that strange way she has of eating, small bites to make the food last longer.

“I am divorcing all of you, just so you know,” he mutters, and it makes them laugh even harder.

Eskild comes up behind him and wraps him in a big bear hug. “You know we love you, baby jesus, come on.”

Isak thinks about Eskild bringing him home, 16 and small and scared, and smiles despite himself. “I’d believe that if you stopped treating me like an incel.”

“You’re right, that’s straight bullshit. You’re a voluntary celibate.”

“I’m not even a celibate.” The hickeys are fading now, but Eskild has seen him in the clubs. Isak squint his eyes. “You know that, guru.”

Eskild laughs, and watches Jonas and Mikha coming in the living room, hair a mess and cheeks flushed. “Did you get off in our kitchen? Because I’m making you clean with your tongue if you did.”

Mikha laughs and shakes their head. “Just a couple kisses, you know how he gets.”

When the doorbell rings, Isak allows himself a moment to look at the picture Even sent, taking advantage of the general commotion because Sana brought Elias with her, since apparently he’s got authority over films because of his Bakka studies. He goes in the corner of the room, braces himself and opens the message.

Even is wet from the shower, and there’s water droplets caught on his eyelashes, and on his lips, and going down his abs, and Isak wants to lick them all. His hand is in his hair, and the idiot is fucking _winking_ , an amused smirk on these fucking lips. His nipples are perked up, and they’d look so cool with a piercing, and Isak doesn’t even _like_ piercings, but he can’t stop himself from thinking about it.

Isak feels his cock starts to chub up in his jeans, and it was probably a bad idea to open the picture when he’s with people, and when he’s going to spend the next couple of hours with people, but he can’t bring himself to regret it, not really. He just sits down on the single chaise, and stares at the screen, black with a bit white _Hevet over mistanke_.

The good thing about movie nights is that literally nobody pays attention to anything that’s not the film. Eva and him are considered a bit like mascots, because they’re not _that_ interested in political films (no, Jonas, not even this one, not even if it’s got a great police critique), but they tag along because of friends and girlfriend. It’s why when Isak gets up in the middle of the first scene, leaving the man to kill his lover undisturbed, nobody really pays attention to him.

He gets in the bathroom and silently locks himself inside. Takes off his shirt, unbuttons his jeans, doesn’t take them off.

The mirror shot is hurried, his hair is a mess, and he appears more affected than he wants to, but his gaze is penetrant, and he’s got a hand down his jeans, and his chin is raised up in defiance. He sends it to Even without overthinking it.

He palms himself a bit over his boxers, and it sends a jolt through his body; his dick his fully hard now, and protesting the half assed attentions Isak’s been giving him. He takes a decision, and takes off his clothes swiftly, closes his eyes, the water droplets in front of him like it was real, like it was possible to lick them, like it was possible to bite these lips.

It’s fast, and a bit messy, and he probably shouldn’t touch himself with so many people in the living room, but this is preferable to having to go back there with a full hard-on.

He comes back that the dude is giving a speech about repressing as a civilisation tool. Nobody really pays attention to him, thank god.

 

***

 

The moment when he has to meet Even face to face comes up, in the end. Of course it does.

It’s not that Isak hadn’t thought about it. They’re in the same group of friends, and he’s been mulling over the fact that he’s got to see him with the others a lot, but it just… didn’t really occur to him that he was going to see Even face to face after what was happening with him.

(Nothing was happening, just stupid selfies and masturbation, but that was beside the point.)

It’s a pregame, and they’re going to a party later, and Isak can’t even bring himself to look at Even in the eyes. In the face. In his general direction. When he came he was stuck up like usual, with his stupid hair in his stupid quiff and his stupid pretentious clothes that screamed _tonight I’m gonna get laid_ , and Isak just scoffed once, without looking at him, and swore he was going to kill him before they could leave the house.

Or as soon as he can bring himself to look at him, same thing, really.

He just resolutely ignores him, ignores the corner where he’s sitting and joking with Mags (“ _… and then I told him, the 1999 Mummy is one of the best films ever made by man, and he was so outraged he couldn’t even speak for thirty seconds, trying to think about what to say_.”) and sticks to Mutta, who’s telling him something about his last DotA campaign with such a fervour that he doesn’t really need to intervene, just nods when he pauses, and that’s the maximum engagement level he’s got right now.

He can feel Even’s presence like the one of a sparkling fire in the room. It’s hot, and it burns, and it calls for Isak like a flame to a moth, and honestly, Isak knows if he answers the call he’s just going to scream at Even like he never did before, and he doesn’t want to ruin the night for everybody. He just nods at what Mutta says, and doesn’t think about the fact that he wants to ruin that stupid perfectly made quiff of hair, because Even deserves to be knocked down a notch.

He needs to school himself into not squishing the can of beer too much, or he’s gonna make a mess, and then he’ll have to clean it and he won’t go to the party, and he needs a lot of dancing and maybe hooking up with someone just to forget what’s happening to him.

When he finishes his beer, he gets up to take another, probably interrupting Mutta in his retell, but he’s taking a beer for him too, at least he’s not a bad host. He leans on the kitchen counter and closes his eyes; he can breathe more easily now that he’s not in the living room, and he just stays there for a moment, breathing deeply.

He can almost feel the shift in the air when someone comes inside the room, and that someone is Even, because Isak’s a very lucky person and he must have been a dictator in his past life, because he can’t explain his bad luck otherwise.

Even looks at him intensely, and for a moment it looks like he’s about to say something, then he shakes his head minutely and heads to the fridge to take a couple beers. Isak can’t stop looking at him. Isak can’t stop looking at his ass. It’s a great ass, and it’s a pity that it’s attached to someone so terrible.

(In his defence, Even insists on wearing these fucking skinny jeans that looks like they’ve been painted on him, and Isak is just a fucking human being, with human reactions and all. He can’t really control the fact that skinny jeans look good on people.

People, not just the hipster mop. People.)

A pity that the someone in question never sent a picture of his ass to Isak.

Even turns around, and Isak’s pretty sure that he caught him staring, because he smirks knowingly, and Isak can’t avoid a blush spreading on his cheeks and neck, and raises his chin in defiance, squinting his eyes a bit. Even keeps smirking, raises his eyebrows once, then gets out of the kitchen with the beers. Immediately, Isak starts breathing a bit easier.

Fuck him, his fucking self-assuredness, and his fucking stick up his ass. Fuck the fact that he’s always so composed in front of everything. Isak’s gonna kill him

Fuck Isak’s life too. Sideways.

 

***

 

The party was cool, and Isak drank a bit and flirted a bit and almost forgot Even’s gaze in the kitchen, but he knows he needs someone to hook up with ASAP, because his sexual frustration is reaching absurd levels. He just can’t really do it when he’s with a group of people; he needs to ask Eskild to go clubbing, that will make things better.

He’s already in bed, half asleep, when his phone vibrates rapidly a couple of times.

The first message is Jonas, a brief _I am happy you’re back to ignoring each other, did you two grow up all of a sudden?_ , and the second one is Even, with a picture.

Of his ass.

In boxer briefs.

It’s plump and round, and there’s fucking sacroiliac dimples just over the rubber band.

And the picture is fucking _captioned_ because life enjoys mocking Isak.

_Wasn’t it the object of your dreams? ;)_

Isak fucking _wishes_ the reason was growing up all of a sudden, but he doesn’t need to tell that to Jonas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnnnnnnn. They have maybe started talking. Maybe. Because the story needs to proceed and they need to go on. And I didn't want to use the term blue balls in the fic, but, you know. Isak is very frustrated at the moment.
> 
> As per usual, if you have doubts, or thoughts to share, comment here or send me a message on 


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reply comes early enough, because of course, Even can bear just _so much_ of challenging and teasing, and.  
>  And it’s a video.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically I should tell you that all Isak does in this chapter is masturbating. Probably. I mean. I wish I could say I'm sorry, but I'm really really not sorry.
> 
> Also I didn't reread the chapter so if you catch some big mistake, hmu and I'll correct it! <3

_I bet you’re hard now_ , says the caption.

The picture is the outline of Even’s cock through his briefs, and it’s so detailed that Isak can see where the tip ends, and his mouth waters at the thought of what he could do to it, at the thought that he could wrap his lips around it to taste its flavour, to feel its warmth. It’s the first time he receives a shot that’s so explicit and detailed, and he’s still half asleep, in that state where he doesn’t really know if the world is ready, or if he’s still in his dream world.

His hand slips under his briefs without even realising, at first, and he goes slow, massages his balls and strokes his cock lightly, with his eyes closed. Even’s got a nice cock, with a nice outline, and a nice little body, and Isak wants nothing more than putting his mouth on him, make him open his mouth just to moan and call Isak’s name. He wants to bite his neck, wants to have him screaming and straining to move, wants to make him beg to come, wants to leave him breathless and spent.

He speeds up and arches on the bed, trying not to make noise, lest someone hears him and barges into his room, or worse, never lets him live this one down. He’s good at keeping his mouth shut when he’s alone, but he becomes an absolute banshee when he’s with someone. Especially if that someone is a mouthy one. He brings his other hand on his nipples, massages them a bit and shivers. He goes down, down, down, massages his rim without breaching in, and that’s what he needs to come, biting his lips and moaning softly, hoping nobody heard him, or, if they did, that they didn’t understand what it was.

He doesn’t even clean himself up, sends a picture of his winky face, his cheeks red with the post-orgasm glow, and captions it _you fucking wish, mate_. Should be easy but not clear enough, and Even will be left wondering if he really masturbated or not.

(Definitely not, he’s a chaste boy, he doesn’t do this kind of thing.)

(He cleans himself with wet wipes before going out of the room, just to be extra sure.)

 

***

 

The reply comes when he’s hanging out with Sana. She trusted him to make her tea, and he’s feeling weirdly proud about that; he made it for Mamma last time he met her, and it turned out fine, but also Mamma doesn’t have Sana’s refined palate.

She tastes it warily, and then nods a couple times. “You’re starting to get it right,” she tells him. “Good.”

“Thank you,” he answers. “Wasn’t sure you were gonna like it.”

Sana smiles and ruffles his hair, looks at him over the rim of the cup. “I’m grateful you decided to learn it, honestly.”

Even if Sana’s much more relaxed these days, it’s still rare to find her so prone to talk about feelings and so unguarded. Isak smiles and shrugs. He’s been reading up a bit of Arabic lately, just to try and say something to her, and he’s planning on telling her sooner or later. “You know it’s nothing, Sanasol.” When he finds the courage.

“Call me that way another time, Isabel, and I’ll pull out your toenails one by one and then make you eat them.”

Isak makes a face. “Next time, be more graphic please.”

“I could have gone with disembowelling you graphically and I choose not to. Be happy with what you have.”

Isak laughs. “Small mercies, I guess.”

He’s mostly relaxed when his phone rings; he takes it out without thinking too much about it, and promptly curses himself when he sees that’s Even.

The picture is simple, really. It’s a slight out-of-focus shot of the silhouette of Even’s cock through his boxed briefs. It’s hard, and there’s a darker spot where the tip is, and Isak’s mouth waters. The caption is simple too. _I know I can make you hard_. And Isak hates how Even always sounds so unaffected and blasé about the whole thing. Even as hard as he is.

He curses himself for having looked at the picture, and crosses his legs before anything happening down there can become visible, because for how much he loves Sana, he really doesn’t want to explain how he got a—very visible, thank you past Isak for the sweatpants idea—boner in her presence. It’s after having read a text, but still.

He must have stared at the phone for a long time, because the screen goes black, and when he raises his gaze, Sana is looking at him questioningly. “What the fuck, dude?” she asks, and Isak hides his phone as a reflex. “What happened? Why are you blushing? Did someone sext you? No wait,” she adds. “I don’t want to know about your hook-ups.”

Isak laughs self-consciously. “I’m sorry I’m sorry,” he says. “Not everyone is good like you are.”

Sana laughs. “True that, but you knew it since we were seventeen, why are you telling me that just now.”

“Because you’re less Iron Lady now that you were in high school.”

Sana has a murderous glint in her eye. “Call me Thatcher again and I’ll disembowel you. Slowly.”

“Nah, you’ll be too preoccupied privatising the rail system probably.”

Sana puts her tea cup on the table, and then pounces. She takes Isak by his neck, and leaves him like that for a bit, while he struggles half-assedly. When she lets him off, he takes a big breath, and she smiles victoriously. “Ding dong, the bitch is dead.”

Isak looks at her without heat. “I hate you, Sanasol.”

Sana smiles. “It’s mutual Isobel, don’t worry.” She takes a lipstick from her purse and starts reapplying it, carefully and slowly. Makeup rituals have always left Isak enthralled, and Sana is the best at makeup. He wonders how it would look on him, what would be the feeling. Maybe one day he’ll ask, maybe for a party. For now, Eskild’s the one with mascara and whatnot. “But actually, I have to go now.”

“Where to?” Isak asks more out of courtesy than out of genuine curiosity, but Sana’s answering blush makes his eyes open wide. “Are you hiding something from me?”

Sana shakes his head. “Not really, come on, don’t be stupid.” She scratches her nose and adjust her hijab, doesn’t look in his eyes.

Uh.

“Okaaaay,” Isak says, dragging out the _a_. “I won’t ask anything more. But I don’t believe you.”

 She rolls her eyes. “Whatever you say, Isobel. I don’t have time to waste right now anyway.” She kisses him on both cheeks, then swats him on his hair for good measure.

“I hope you get it, babe,” Isak calls out when she’s not looking at him. She just raises her middle finger.

Isak watches her looking at her reflection, perfecting her lipstick application with her little finger, and finally closing the door softly behind her. He almost wants to send a message to Eva to see if she knows something, but he wants to give it time. Secrets are never really secrets with his friends anyway, unless it’s really important shit.

 

***

 

 

 

Well, fuck it. Isak doesn’t have time for this bullshit.

He marches straight to the bathroom, and mutters _shower_ to a flabbergasted Eskild staring at him from the kitchen threshold. He needs a shower, but first the fucker’s not gonna know what hit him. At all.

He ponders briefly whether doing this after the shower, but he doesn’t really have the patience to wait. So he just takes all his clothes off, stands in front of the mirror, takes a deep breath and goes all in.

It’s just him, in high quality this time, his hard cock and his middle finger. He’s got a sneer on his face, just for Even’s enjoyment, and he’s not backing up now. Even can honestly suck his cock for all he cares, he won’t be called repressed by a person like him.

He sends the picture with the caption _I’m embracing my bodily functions, and the finger is a suggestion for you_.

If that picture doesn’t kill Even, Isak for sure will, sooner or later.

 

***

 

“ _Roll, roll, roll the joint, gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream_.” Jonas is clapping his hands to accompany his chanting, and Isak can’t avoid smiling. Noora, on her part, just shakes her head and proceed to present a perfectly rolled joint for Eva to light.

They’re having a quiet night, for once without Mikha or his friends. It’s just the boys, Eva, and Noora, out in the balcony with a couple of beers and a lot of hash. And they’re just getting started.

Isak missed evenings like this one.

“The song doesn’t even make sense with the joint. How can you even roll a joint gently down the stream?” Mahdi’s got a thoughtful expression.

Jonas shrugs. “Dunno man. I just remember that it was used for that _Fringe_ episode, that was fucking creepy.”

Eva passes the joint to Noora, who inhales closing her eyes. “You mean that was fucking amazing?”

Jonas just raises his hands in mock surrender. “Whatever you say, honestly.”

Eva laughs. “I won’t stand for _Fringe_ slander after you made me watch all the five seasons in a week,” she says.

“That’s nothing, honestly. Even told me he did it in a weekend. The whole series.” Magnus always gets that glint in his eyes when he talks about Even. Honestly, his crush is maybe a bit embarrassing.

“The whole series is like a hundred episodes, Mags.” Noora passes the joint to Isak. She always has it a bit more than the others, because she resolutely doesn’t drink, not after what she endured in high school.

“Yeah, but he was manic, so I doubt he slept.” Magnus shrugs.

Isak closes his eyes. The hash it’s amazing, and he always preferred hash to weed anyway. They don’t really get hash anymore because Jonas and Noora insist on buying everything from people they know, who make it for themselves and it’s all organic, ecologic and other bullshit like that. It does taste good, and it’s worth the price they pay, but it still doesn’t have the sweetness of the hash.

(Isak still hates the guy they knew in their first year of high school with a passion, because he was a macho and he made Isak feel like he wasn’t worth it, but the one thing he had good, was that he dealt with both weed and hash, which was a godsend for Isak, when he wanted to smoke something really good.)

“About Even…” Isak really doesn’t want to have a conversation about Even, but with Magnus it’s becoming a given. He keeps his eyes closed, even when Jonas’ fingers come to steal his joint. “Do you guys know what’s up with him? Yousef told me he’s not the same lately.”

“Uh?” Noora seems confused. “I’ve seen him here a few days ago, he seemed fine?”

“Yeah but like,” Magnus makes a pause. “Like, he’s really frustrated and a bit snappy lately. Yousef doesn’t understand what could have happened. I mean, Isak aside.”

Isak opens his eyes, and Magnus is not even looking at him, just gesticulating into the void. “He’s probably tired of having that stick up his ass, what can you do.”

Jonas snorts, and gives Isak a tap on the shoulder. He doesn’t say more, but Isak smiles nonetheless.

“No but like, Yousef says he needs to fuck out all that frustration he has. So I’m not sure, you know.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “Okay, Mags, what’s the point of this?”

Magnus looks at him, eyes wide. “I mean, I hadn’t thought about that, but can I reiterate that I thi—”

“Holy fucking shit, Mags. Can you please fucking stop with this?” Isak puts his head on Jonas’ shoulder, and sighs deeply. “I’m not sure why you’re so obsessed with that, anyway.”

“Since he doesn’t get some, he’ll make sure the people he knows are all coupled up. Or something.” Mahdy snorts at Magnus’ indignation, and takes the joint from Jonas. “Bro, you can’t deny you’re a bit too obsessed with that.”

“I just care about the wellbeing of the people I love!”

Eva throws her head back and laughs, and Noora bites her neck lightly, in an intimate gesture that Isak doesn’t feel like he should be allowed to watch. “Caring about the wellbeing of the people you love, that’s how you’re calling it. Okay.”

“Or maybe he has a crush on Even.” Noora speaks from Eva’s neck, and Magnus’ indignant sputter makes Isak laughs.

He’s saved by Jonas who starts melting another piece of hash for the next joint. Isak takes a long swig of his beer and feels everything slowly starting to hit him. It’s going to be a great night.

 

***

 

When he wakes up the day after, he’s still feeling his head spinning, along with a headache coming right up because of the beer. The clock on his wall says it’s 9:30, and he curses himself for having woken up so early.

He gets up and goes to the bathroom, with the intention of peeing and going straight back to sleep. The night had been good, and by the end of it, they were all super high and kept talking too slowly to carry out a conversation. Eva and Noora had disappeared in Noora’s room after a while, and because Eva’s a show off, she had to tell them that smoking made them horny. And from that moment onwards, it had been just silence. Isak hadn’t gone with the boys for a kebab because he was about to faint right then and there, and now he’s kind of regretting it, because he’s fucking hungry.

The bathroom door opens before he can do anything, and he’s suddenly facing a half-naked Elias, who apparently didn’t expect anyone to be awake, and stops in his tracks, a panicked expression on. Isak just blinks slowly, not sure of what he’s seeing. “Uh,” he says, his voice coarse.

Elias fucking blushes down to his chest. “Good morning,” he mutters.

“Did you—” Isak clears his throat and tries again. “Did you spend the night here?”

Elias raises both his eyebrows. “I’m not answering sarcastically because you seem more there than here.”

“Right.” Isak looks at his feet. “Listen, can we talk about it when I’ve slept another three hours?”

Elias snorts. “Text me, I have to go in a bit. Ah, Isak,” he says, hesitant. “This thing… is still private, you know?”

“Right.” Isak nods a bit dumbly. “Of course, don’t worry.”

Elias pats his shoulder, then disappears in Eskild’s room, and Isak does his best not to listen to what’s happening there. He doesn’t want to be scarred for life, honestly.

(Though nothing can be worse than that time he was barely out to himself and he caught Eskild in the middle of a threesome. Sometimes he still has nightmares about that.)

 

***

 

 

“So,” Isak says, and Eskild laughs.

“What do you want to know baby Jesus?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Isak doesn’t feel betrayed or anything, but he can’t avoid wondering. Eskild tells him almost everything, and they’ve been counting on each other a lot since Isak came out and Eskild could be a _proud guru_ , in his words.

“Elias didn’t really want, you know.” Eskild shrugs. “He doesn’t know how to deal with a relationship, mostly, so we’re taking it easy and slow, and he asked me not to tell anything to anyone. Or, you know. Anyone who also knows him.”

Isak nods. Bites his lips. “So you like him?”

When Eskild looks at him, his eyes are crinkly at the corners. “Yeah, a lot. He’s amazing, and we can talk about anything. I’ve honestly never felt like that before.”

He deserves it, because even with all the fuckbuddies he’s always had, he’s always been looking for something more emotional, and Isak’s glad he’s found it. “I’m happy for you, guru.”

Eskild hugs him lightly, puts his head in Isak’s neck and just breathes for a bit. Isak squeezes him, closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy the warmth for a bit.

 

***

 

_It’s nice that you don’t know what to say_ it’s the caption that Isak uses for an almost artsy shot of his abs covered in come, when Even has not answered to his full nude. It feels a bit exhilarating, shutting him up for the first time, and Isak likes the power rush it gives him. For the first time, he feels like he’s got the longer end of the stick; the one Even has in his ass, of course. And he does enjoy twisting it sometimes.

The reply comes early enough, because of course, Even can bear just _so much_ of challenging and teasing, and.

And it’s a video.

_What the—_

It’s only six seconds, and Isak doesn’t know what to think; the thumbnail is a blurry and dark shot of his face, and he presses on it warily.

Even’s face comes to life on his phone, and it’s dark and moving up and down a bit. Even’s alone, and he’s panting, like he’s—like he’s touching himself.

He’s trying to keep on a derisive expression, but he fails when a moan comes to him just before he starts speaking. He says “ _fuck you, Valtersen_ ” in a breathy voice, then throws his head back, and the video stops there.

Isak presses frantically on it again.

And again.

And again.

His cock is hard again, even if he literally just came, and fuck, he didn’t really need that, because he’s really not in the mood for doing that again, and yet he can tell it’s not a boner that’s going to go away without doing something about it.

Fuck, Even’s voice. Fuck him, honestly. Fuck him and his videos, and fuck Isak and his ideas.

In the end, he resolves with opening the bedtable drawer and taking out his vibrator and lube; he doesn’t really use them often, because it’s noisy, and he lives with roommates. But he really doesn’t have the patience to jack off another time.

(He still turns the stereo on for good measure.)

He draws it out a bit, circling and massaging his rim teasingly, because it’s been a while, and because he actually likes that a lot, and he wants to take his time. He works up to two and then three fingers, going in and out slowly, arching his back and pinching his nipples, and then sets to use his vibrator.

It’s a cute little thing, really. Well, medium thing, more a vibrating dildo than a simple vibrator. He bought it on a whim on the internet, not thinking he would have enjoyed it, and yet. Here he is. He pushes it in slowly, careful, and lets out a big breath, switches it on.

It’s a bit to find his prostate but once it’s done, it sends jolts running down his spine. He lets out a low moan, arching on the bed, and gives fleeting touches to his hard cock, not able to do anything else because the pleasure is too intense.

His orgasm hits him all at once, and he blacks out for a few seconds, and he hopes nobody heard him, because he’s sure he didn’t control himself. It’s all white noise in his hear and white pleasure going through him, and he shoots again on his abs, stroking himself through the aftershock.

He leaves the vibrator on for a few seconds more, enjoying the overstimulation a bit more before it becomes too much and he has to turn it off, and then he lies on his bed, spent and afraid he won’t feel his legs anymore if he tries to get off the bed.

Holy shit, fuck Even and his fucking voice. Isak’s gonna kill him.

 

***

 

When Agát arrives in Oslo, the mood at the kollektiv is always festive, and if Linn’s well enough, she’ll cook for everyone, and after dinner Agát will drink everybody under the table, as per usual. Isak likes the routine.

“I brought you all moonshine, my dudes, you have to tell me how it is because my friend wants to know,” is the first thing Agát says upon entering the house. Isak laughs loudly.

“Your friend started an illegal distillery?”

Agát shrugs. “Just for personal consumption. She’s very proud of it, too.”

She hugs Isak briefly, then goes on to hug Noora and Eskild, and leaves Linn for last, going for a long kiss and melting into her arms.

Isak looks at Noora, who shakes her head and beckons him into the kitchen. “Let’s set the table,” she says, and starts to do it without waiting for him

Noora’s always a bit shaken when she gets dethroned from her kitchen, she’s so used to cooking and knowing exactly what she puts in everything that she doesn’t do that well when she can’t do it.

(She’s better now than she was before. When she came back from London she couldn’t really go to eat out, or eat anything that was premade. It was Vilde who kept coming to the kollektivet and cooking with her, telling her that _her body needs potatoes_ , that made her feel marginally better in the end. Now she’s almost good, she goes to eat out and she mostly doesn’t care about how much food she eats, but when she’s not her cooking it, it’s still a bit shaky and strange for her.)

The voices from the corridor wash over them, and Isak feels a bit like he’s in a liminal space, like he could disappear right now and nobody would ever notice, save for Noora. He’s about to voice his thoughts, when Noora speaks first.

“Did you see that Elias’ been spending the nights?”

And just like that, the moment is gone. Isak nods. “I stumbled upon him when I was still high from last Friday. Wasn’t a pleasant encounter, he was really embarrassed.”

Noora chuckles. “Sana still doesn’t know, and I’m sure she will have a heart attack when she will. She thinks her brother is straight.”

Isak snorts and start coughing. “Oh my god, she’s in for a surprise then.”

“I have half an idea to invite her here and make her meet her brother half-naked,” Noora’s openly laughing now. “And then film her reaction.”

“Better now, she would kill us.”

Noora finishes setting the table, sobers up a bit. “No, of course not. I respect people’s privacy and all that.” She looks at him when she says that, and Isak winks in response.

“It’s all right, Noor, you know that.” He doesn’t really care if her and Eva were obsessed with his sexuality in high school. He used to care, but he recognises it for what it is, namely two queer girls looking for other people like them, even without realising it.

Noora smiles briefly, then calls out for the other to come and eat, that Linn’s an amazing cook and it must not go to waste. Agát comes into the kitchen and puts the bottle of moonshine in the freezer, then winks at him.

“So, what’s for dinner then?”

Isak loves routine.

 

***

 

(He sends Even a goodnight picture, with his cock barely visible under the sheets, and his middle finger well up, with the caption _you can fuck yourself too_. He ponders a bit, then sends _unfortunately, you can’t do it with these fingers_ too. He doesn’t really wait for Even to answer, just turns on the other side and goes to sleep.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, yeah, Elias/Eskild. And Sana/someone else :3 let me know if you liked it!


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The video Even sent is two minutes long, captioned with _you think you’re so clever_. Under that, another message; it says _hope you’re still alive after that_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, okay. Just enjoy this chapter because I still have to write the next one and I don't know when it will be. Rip me, I know, I know.
> 
> Thanks a lot [Desert](http://archiveofourown.org/users/desert_coffin/pseuds/desert_coffin) for the Arabic and the kelb/9alb pun, what would I do without you baby? <3

 

 

Isak’s hand speeds up on his cock. He laid it out perfectly, preparing for this: his vibrator is snug inside his ass, and he’s covered in sweat because he’s been teasing himself just for that.

He has to get a good grip on his phone, or it’s going to fall on his face. As soon as he feels his orgasm approaching, he raises his arm and presses _rec_ , a cocky smirk on his face.

He makes sure he’s looking right into the camera when it hits, before he has to close his eyes and arch up on the bed, a moan escaping his mouth and white dots flashing behind his lids. He strokes himself through the aftershock, looking back at the camera, making sure his body is all in the shot.

He doesn’t really rewatch the video, because he feels a bit awkward doing that, but the final results is thirty seconds, and that must be enough. He ponders if it’s better sending it now or later, and then decides to send it now, because surely Even will be thinking about making another video to send him, and he doesn’t really want to lose the occasion to send him with the caption _this is to help your wank bank_. He smiles to himself and looks down at the mess he made.

Luckily for him, nobody’s at home right now.

 

***

 

“So, who do I have to pay to get you to talk?”

Sana looks at him and shrugs. “I’m not sure you have enough money, honestly.”

“Pretty please?” Isak tries his Bambi look, but, judging from Sana’s expression, it doesn’t really work. “The prettiest please?”

“How’s that you’re the nosiest person I know, Isobel? You don’t even have the looks.” Sana rolls her eyes. “I’ll tell you as soon as I’m sure, okay?”

She looks kind of vulnerable in this moment, younger than her age and insecure. Isak puts his hand on her shoulder, gives it a comforting squeeze. “It’s okay, I’m sorry I pushed.”

Sana shakes her head. “It’s okay,” she says. “I mean it’s actually a pretty important thing, and trust me I want to tell you, but I’m just—I need to be sure beforehand.”

“Okay, but if you need something from me, I can totally go and beat someone’s ass, just so you know,” Isak says, and then. “ _ntyia dima fi kalbi_.”

What happens after is that Sana looks like she’s trying really hard not to laugh. “Did you just call me your bitch, Isobel?”

“What?” Isak pales. “I—no! That was—that was supposed to mean that you’re always in my heart! That you’re important to me!”

Sana gnaws on her bottom lip. “Yeah, only you said I was always your bitch.”

Isak just wants to bury himself alive. Or frantically check his duolingo app. Or the vocabulary. “Where did I go wrong?”

“You said _kelbi_ , which means ‘my dog.’” Sana is not even looking at him. “Heart is _qalb_ , with a _qaaf_.”

“With a what now?”

This time Sana lets out a full belly laugh, and it’s something like twenty seconds before she can calm herself enough to repeat the sound. It’s weird, like she has a click in her throat and is trying to will it away. “ _Qaaf_ ,” she repeats.

Isak might be pouting a bit. “But it’s the thought that counts?”

“And the count that thinks.” Sana is still smiling big, and hugs Isak tightly. It’s a bit awkward at first, because they’re not really cuddly people together, but Isak likes it. “You’re one of the most important people in my life too. And,” Sana pauses, takes a big breath. “I’ll tell you about her, for sure.”

_Her_. Isak smiles really, really big. “I’m trying not to react right now because I don’t want you to feel pressure, but… wow.”

Sana laughs, a bit self-consciously. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

They stay silent for a bit, just there, both smiling really big, till Elias appears on the threshold. “Mum says to tell you two that dinner’s ready.”

When they’re going to the garden, Isak whispers to Sana _ntyia dima fi qalbi_ again, and he’s sure he still butchers the pronunciation, but Sana smiles nonetheless.

 

***

 

“So, Lito and I reached an agreement and he’s okay with that. I mean, he knew it would have never been a thing between us, and I’m not saying it’s better not to worry, but, you know. I’m not sure what Elias wants to do yet, but I don’t want anything standing between us, you know?” Eskild is carefully applying mascara and talking to his kollektiv audience (plus Agát). “And I’m glad we can still be friends, I mean, we’re talking about a very politically engaged guy, it’s always a pleasure.”

“So you actually want to be serious and shit,” Linn has her face schooled in her usual unimpressed expression, but her eyes are crinkling at the corners. “Does he know?”

“This is the point, we still haven’t talked about it, and I know I’m his first experience and I—don’t want to pressure him in, you know? Maybe he just wants something light and easy, I don’t know.”

Isak has to make a conscious effort not to say what Elias told him. “I mean, the best way to know it is go and talk to him, why don’t you do it?”

“I can’t believe _Isak_ is the one suggesting healthy and mature communication out of all of us.” Noora is laughing lightly and elbows Isak, making him go _oof_. “You wouldn’t expect it.”

“Sorry, I’m just being logical here.” And maybe he knows something they don’t, but this is beside the point. “Eskild has a crush, Eskild should do something about that.”

Eskild laughs and takes his blush. “You do have a point, baby Jesus. It’s not that I don’t want to do it, it’s just that I can’t find the right moment, you know.”

“Wait, you don’t talk with the guy?” Agát takes a brush and motions for Eskild to give her the blush. “I’m doing this, dude.”

Eskild raises his head to make her job easier. “We do, a lot actually. But it’s like—every time I try there’s something that blocks me, and I’m not able to talk.”

“It’s called _caring about him_ , Eskild.” Noora makes a face. “When I was dating Jonas it was all fun and games because neither of us were that invested in the relationship. But to tell Eva I really liked her? That took me literally ages, and in the end I was high when I told her, because otherwise I wouldn’t have had the courage.”

“You were high?” Isak didn’t know this part of the story. Noora scratches the back of her neck and shrugs.

“It was one of the first times, actually. I was still with Jonas and, I mean, well.”

At that, Isak laughs. “So you’re in fact the last one who can suggest mature communication.”

Noora rolls her eyes. “Oh, shut up. I’m glad to inform you that Eva and I have a very mature and healthy relationship where we’re equals in each and every aspects and we collaborate towards making our life easier.”

“Have you ever thought about cosplaying Hermione Granger?” Agát is red in the face, like she always is when she’s trying to remain serious. “You’d be perfect for her.”

“Oh, but Noora was one and the same with Hermione Granger when she was in high school, down to her support of S.P.E.W.” Eskild carefully applies a liquid lipstick in a nude shade.

“Was this a meeting to talk about Eskild’s love life or a meeting because it’s _pick on Noora_ day?”

“We can do both, you know, like the annual building meetings where they take any excuse to just argue and spit in each other’s face.” Linn shudders a bit. “Remember when Mrs. Anders was on that crusade to make the Moschels stop using their oven? What even.”

“Okay, but Mrs. Anders is… not in her best mind, honestly, and everybody knows it.”

“Yeah but it’s not you who are woken up by her screams because she can, and I quote, feel the oven’s heat from her apartment and she’s dying.”

At that, Agát laughs. “I see that you’re never bored in this building, though.”

Eskild bats his eyelashes at her. “Only the best in this city, my love.” He gets up and turns around. “Do I look flawless enough?”

“Absolutely perfect,” Linn says. “Now go and break some hearts.”

Eskild laughs. “They’ll be really surprised to hear I might be off the market, oh my god.”

He kisses them all on the cheek and then saunters out of the door, ready to go to his weekly party he’s been trying to get Isak into for forever. It’s not that Isak doesn’t want, but he’s less into clubbing and more into house parties anyway. He goes with him for pride, but then it’s Noora and Eva too, and if Linn feels good, then she’s there, and it’s totally different.

(Last time they went he got so shitfaced that he woke up in a stranger’s bed with no recollection of the night before. He was all dressed up, too, so hooking up hadn’t happened. He’d left before the stranger could wake up, with a note thanking him and apologising for the inconvenience, and had gone back home walking, because he was sure that if he got on the tram he’d got motion sickness and. Better not.)

(He’d passed two days in his room in total darkness, drinking only water to rehydrate.)

 

***

 

Isak goes back to his room with a light heart and a smile on his lips. He loves his flatmates, really loves them, and loves the life he’s come to have. If somebody had told his sixteen tear old self that one day he’d get to be this open and this happy he’d probably just laugh and/or lash out. And yet. Adulthood was being generous with him.

He checks his phone, and, in time like the death (or like Noora’s period, which arrives every twenty-eight days at the same time of the day) there’s a message from Even.

Isak takes a deep breath.

The last one he sent was daring, and Even hadn’t answered all afternoon, and since he seems to have found the courage, it must be something—something—

Isak puts on headphones before opening the chat, just to be sure.

The video Even sent is two minutes long, captioned with _you think you’re so clever_. Under that, another message; it says _hope you’re still alive after that_. The thumbnail shows Even’s abs.

Well then.

When he clicks on it, it opens on Even’s smirking face. He’s red and panting a bit, but he looks so smug. He whispers “just fucking enjoy the show,” and then the camera pans down, down, down, and his cock is hard and red, and he’s stroking it a bit, then he just. Stops, and his hand goes down and the framing gets shaky and Isak _feels_ as shaky as the framing is, and Even’s long fingers are right fucking there in his ass, and Even is pumping slowly, and Isak can hear his moans and can see the way he moves them, scissors them, the way he opens himself up. He’s slick, and Isak can almost _see_ himself going down on him, using his fingers and his tongue to make him come, trying to make him come without even touching his dick.

The camera returns on Even, and he’s shaky, but still smiling smugly. “I want a 100% on Rotten Tomatoes,” he moans, and then stops the video.

Isak almost wants to send in an official complaint because that fucking tease didn’t even have the decency to come. That fucking tease just teased him with a two-minute-long video and then he didn’t even come. After making Isak wait half a day.

_You’re just a fucking tease_ , is what he sends, and considers it the official complaint he wanted to make.

Now, the problem is just the boner he has. Right.

 

***

 

“So you’re the famous Isak.” Thorvald is a middle-aged man, with salt-and-pepper hair and a skin that’s darkened by the time he spends in his boat. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” He’s smiling brightly, and when he shakes Isak’s hand, he grips it firmly. Isak smiles back.

“Likewise,” he says. “I’ve heard a lot mainly about your cooking skills.”

Thorvald lets out a laugh. “Marianne is always too nice to me, honestly. It’s just throwing ingredients together and see what I can make.”

Isak laughs, and when Mamma comes out of the living room, he hugs her in earnest. “Hi Mamma,” he murmurs.

Mamma smiles. “Hi baby, welcome. I made Thorvald cook just for you today, just so you know.”

“Just so I can prove him wrong when he speaks of _throwing ingredients together_ , right?” Isak laughs, and they go together to the table, which looks nicer than usual. But then again, Isak does look nicer than usual too, with the best polo he owns and trousers that aren’t jeans for once. “So, Thorvald, Mamma mentioned you’re an accountant, so with a proper boring adult people job and all that.”

Thorvald laughs as they sit down. “Of course, a proper boring adult job. I’m just waiting for retirement so I can give everything to my true passion, honestly.”

“Sailing, right?” Isak takes the bottle of sparkly wine and puts a bit in their glasses. With them, Mamma brings a plate of small elaborated canapés, and Isak makes an impressed face.

“Yeah, it’s sailing. I’m trying to convince Marianne to come, but she’s resisting.”

“If you think I’ll willingly set foot on something that doesn’t lay on land, then you’re so wrong, my dear.” Mamma sits down and starts sipping the wine, leaving the lipstick on the rim of the glass. “There’s a reason why we don’t have fins, and I’m not about to defy God’s will.”

“But I promise it’s super secure, and my safety measures are up to date.” Thorvald still hasn’t resigned, Isak kind of admires that, because Mamma’s one of the most stubborn people he knows.

“Naturally,” says her in a mocking tone. “I’m sure Isak will be glad to join you one of these days, we’re blood related so it counts, right?”

“Of course you’re invited, Isak.” Thorvald raises one eyebrow. “Would you mind taking your mother as plus one though?”

Isak and Mamma both laughs at that, and Thorvald gets up to take the first course. Isak smiles brightly, and Mamma looks the happiest she’s ever looked in the last ten years. “I like him,” Isak mouths to her, and she takes his hand and grips it tightly.

“He woke up at five in the morning to make a proper ragù just for you,” she whispers. “I think he wants to make a good impression.”

When Thorvald comes back with a big plate of _tagliatelle alla Bolognese_ , Isak smiles big. “Did Mamma tell you it’s one of my favourite dishes?”

Thorvald smiles a bit. “I might have asked a couple things on what you like, just to be sure.”

Thorvald looks so different from his ever-absent father, and Isak finds himself relaxing into his chair while the lunch goes on. Mamma’s got smiling eyes, and Thorvald is going all out to impress him, and isn’t family the one you choose anyway?

 

***

 

 

***

 

The worst thing about going clubbing with the whole group is that they always, always end up in weird or embarrassing situations, especially if that evening nobody really wants to be on Magnus Watch.

It’s not that Mags is stupid, really, it’s that he literally doesn’t have a filter, and he always ends up saying the wrong thing at the wrong moment, and if they’re lucky it’s just some person being pissed at him, but if they’re not, it’s someone ready to fight.

(Once they were in a house party and he had wanted to hit on a beautiful guy, really toned and all. Only, that beautiful guy really toned and all was a giant fucking prick and a giant fucking homophobe, and as soon as he got wind of what Mags was trying to do, he literally went berserker, and it was a miracle that nobody got hurt.)  
(Isak might have put two spoons of salt in his drink afterwards, just to enjoy making him get sick.)

(Prick deserved it anyway.)

This time luckily it’s not some homophobic asshat, but the girl Magnus is trying to chat up looks clearly unimpressed and bored as fuck, and Isak doesn’t know what to do to spare her and his friend from that. Jonas and Mikha are probably getting wild on the dancefloor, and the only person that’s in his line of sight is Yousef, that doesn’t look prone to do anything that’s not snickering at Magnus. Isak rolls his eyes at him and he raises his hands and shakes his head. _Not going there_ , he mouths, and Isak just shrugs. Fair enough, Magnus is already halfway drunk, and he’s not even drunk enough for this, despite the pregame they did.

He wades through the people to get to the bar so he can drink a bit, and then look for someone to take home tonight. He’s tired, and horny, and seeing Even at the pregame didn’t help him at all, and he really does need to fuck it out.

(Seeing Even had been even stranger, because now he knew what kind of moans he could do, and he really, really didn’t know how to act. He’d spent the evening looking at him without saying anything, and Even would stare back, and it was so obvious that at one point Mahdi made a joke on cutting the tension with a knife. Mahdi, not Magnus.)

He finishes his Moscow Mule quickly, and his head is spinning a bit, which is the only way he can ever go on the dancefloor honestly. He’s good at flirting, and he’s good at picking up people, but dancing is really not his career of choice. The floor is packed and the music is loud, and he starts moving without a care in the world. That’s not picking up someone, that is.

There’s a cute boy that’s looking at him, brown hair and clear eyes, a smirk on his plump lips. Isak smiles at him, and the boy comes closer; he smells good, and Isak puts his hands on the boy’s hips, trying to find a rhythm to dance to. The boy buries his face in Isak’s neck and bites lightly, and yes, Isak can feel himself getting excited. It’s going to be a good night.

He opens his eyes, looks right in front of him, and Even is there, leaning on the wall.

He’s looking at him intensely, sipping a soda. Isak feels self-conscious all of a sudden, he can’t enjoy the attentions the boy is giving him, he feels like he’s in a too small space, and he doesn’t know what to do.

He closes his eyes again, tries to ignore the jerk, because he feels strung tight like a violin, like the minimum vibration is going to make him explode, and he doesn’t need that; what he needs is to bring this boy home, and forget about Even Bech Næsheim for a bit.

He grips the boy tightly and kisses him. It’s nice, nothing worth remembering, but nice nonetheless. He opens his eyes, and Even is still there, looking at him, and he’s got a fucking smirk on his face, his eyebrows raised, like he’s challenging him to do more, to do something under his gaze, to see if Isak is _able_ to do it.

When the boy starts kissing Isak’s neck again, his hands on Isak’s ass, he can’t take it anymore. He detaches himself as delicately as possible, muttering some excuse, and leaves the dancefloor, trying to escape Even’s gaze, still fixed on him.

He gets into the toilettes, splashes water on himself, trying not to think to what just happened, and breathes deeply. He just lost a sure hook-up for the night, all thanks to that fucking jerk that can’t even respect someone’s privacy. Honestly fuck him, what is he even doing. What is _Isak_ even doing.

The door opens, and Even comes in, seemingly intent writing a message. And Isak sees _red_. “You,” he hisses, and Even raises his head, his eyes round in surprise. “What the fuck,” Isak continues, and steps closer to Even, ready to pounce. “What the fuck did you think.”

Even makes a face and snort. “I don’t know, what did I think?” His tone is derisive, and Isak has to make an effort not to punch him right there.

“You think it’s all fun and games? That you can just pop up and ruin everything like it’s nothing? What the fuck, Even.” Isak raises his chin, and they’re almost the same size, but he tries to make himself bigger just because.

“You did everything, come on. I was just watching you.” Even is still derisive. “I would ask myself why you’re so affected, maybe.”

“I would ask myself why you find me getting it on so interesting, _maybe_ ,” Isak mocks. “I don’t watch random people hooking up, Even. You do.”

Even has actually the nerve to laugh at that. “You think I was interested in seeing you getting it on?”

“I think you’re interested in making me fucking mad.”

“And I think,” Even comes up to his face, and they’re impossibly close, and Isak can’t fucking _breathe_ —“I think you’re interested in making _me_ react to yourself, and are angry because it doesn’t work.”

And now, it’s Isak’s turn to laugh. “Please. Even _Magnus_ realised you’re quote unquote strange and you need to fuck it out.”

“You mean, just the same thing he says to you?”

“You mean, he’s obsessed with finding someone for me since I came out, but with you he’s not like that?”

“You’re honestly one of the most mouthy and stubborn people I’ve ever met, god.”

“The feeling is fucking mutual.”

They’re still impossibly close, and breathing hard, and Isak can feel Even’s breath on his lips, and he doesn’t really have any other excuse for what he does, except that he’s horny and he needs indeed to fuck it out, and there’s someone who’s really hot, albeit fucking annoying, just right in front of him, panting on his lips.

The kiss is hard, all teeth and almost no tongue, and Isak bites Even’s bottom lip so hard he can almost taste blood. Even kisses back with the same force, gripping Isak’s ass so tight he’s sure there will be bruises tomorrow. He pushes Even towards the wall, and presses himself on his body, then goes down to bite his neck. Hard. Just so he will have Isak’s teeth on his skin tomorrow.

Even moans loud at that, and Isak is thankful for the loud music, but before he can say anything, the bathroom door opens and they spring apart, while a blonde dude looks at him amused. “By any means,” he says. “Don’t let me stop you.”

Isak ignores him. He’s still panting, and his dick is hard in his pants. “Mine or yours?” he asks, and Even smirks.

“Mine, I’m alone tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, so. They gonna fuk. Yes. They gonna. Hopefully, maybe.


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first coherent though that crosses Isak’s mind is _why haven’t I done this before_. He’s pressed on the front door of Even’s apartment, and he doesn’t even really know how he got in that specific position.

The first coherent though that crosses Isak’s mind is _why haven’t I done this before_. He’s pressed on the front door of Even’s apartment, and he doesn’t even really know how he got in that specific position.

The way home was just a hasty almost-run to catch a tram, and then looking at each other and almost snarling, trying not to give anyone a free show. And then Even dragged him up the stairs and across the threshold, and he almost felt the need to comment on the _nice house_ , but he’s busy getting mauled by a tall blonde mop to do anything else.

This won’t do.

He yanks hard at Even’s hair, makes him detach from his neck and Even goes, a smug expression firmly in place. Isak’s sure his neck doesn’t look good right now. “Boy, sure you do like me,” he sneers, and pushes Even towards the wall, reels in the noise his body makes when it comes in contact with it.

Even gasps, and bites his lips. He brings a hand down Isak’s body, puts it on his hard-on and fucking _smirks_. “Not like you’re better, Valtersen,” he murmurs, and it sounds strained.

Isak would laugh if he was just a tiny bit less aroused.

He goes on and bites Even’s neck, hard, and in retaliation Even fucking _squeezes_ and it hurts, but Isak won’t give him the satisfaction of a whine, so he just bites harder, and presses himself against Even, nudges a thigh between his legs just to have the same power over Even that he has over Isak.

“You’re like a rabid dog,” Even comments, and Isak can tell he’s trying to sound aloof, but as soon as Isak pushes his thigh against Even’s dick, his voice breaks. It’s _delightful_.

Isak stops working on Even’s neck and looks at him. He’s got red blotches on his cheeks, and his eyes are open wide. Isak figures he mustn’t be much better looking. “Let’s see about that,” he says, and then drops to his knees.

Even’s breath hitches, and he puts his hands in Isak’s hair, tugging a bit, just there waiting for Isak to unbutton his pants and pull everything down, just to see Even’s cock in real life. The camera didn’t do it justice, and Isak’s mouth almost waters at the sight; it’s long, and thick, and already a bit wet at the tip. Isak touches the wetness and snorts. “You can’t even contain yourself.”

Even’s only answer is to push him towards his cock, and Isak sputters a bit, trying to adjust. Even’s cock rests heavy on his tongue for two seconds, and then he starts to fuck Isak’s mouth in earnest. He moves fast, doesn’t really pay attention to how Isak is doing, just keeps his hands on Isak’s head and tugs hard at Isak’s hair to move his head and match the thrust of his hips. He grunts sometimes, but Isak can tell he’s trying very carefully not to let loose and not to make noise.

Isak lets his jaw hang a bit, plays with the underside of Even’s cock and enjoys the resulting stutter in his hips, inhales when he can and keeps his eyes well opened, even if there’s some tear threatening to escape. Even’s hands are big and he does enjoy the brutal pace Even has set, but he doesn’t know what’s waiting for him at the end of the tunnel.

He sees his chance when he feels Even’s cock harden a bit in his mouth, sees Even tensing up, and feels his thrusts become erratic. He takes advantage of a weak thrust and shakes Even’s hands off his head, taking his mouth off Even’s dick. He squeezes its base, just a little, and after a painful couple of seconds, Even comes.

Kind of.

He doesn’t exactly _come_. He trembles and shivers, while his cock dribbles come on the floor, going up and down, and emits a pitiful whine, looking down at Isak. “What the fuck,” he croaks out, after a minute or two. He sounds frustrated. “What the _fuck_ ,” he repeats. Isak just grins.

“Couldn’t even hold it in, could you?”

That seems to spur Even into action; he drags Isak back on his feet, and attacks his mouth with teeth and desperation. It’s not pretty, and it’s not slow: it’s Even biting his bottom lip so hard Isak’s sure he can taste blood, and it’s Isak clutching at Even’s hair till he whines in his mouth, and it’s Even placing a hand on Isak’s neck and gripping tight, tight, tight until Isak feels himself become dizzy and has to stop the kiss.

They stare at each other down for a long moment, so close that Isak can feel Even’s heavy breath on his lips. Then, Even bares his teeth. “Fuck you,” he says, with as much venom as possible. Isak’s smile doesn’t really reach his eyes.

“In a mo,” he says. “If we can reach your bed.”

Even shoulders past him and goes towards one of the doors. He doesn’t even look at Isak, doesn’t wait for him, just open the door and starts undressing without a care in the world. Isak smirks to himself; well, then.

Before undressing, he takes out the condom from his wallet. Even looks at it and snorts. “Good that you brought it. Mine would have been too big for you.”

“You really won’t talk like that once I’m in you, big boy.”

They didn’t even turn on the light, and the only source of light comes from the corridor, because the curtains are drawn. Even look almost good even with the yellowish hue giving him almost a sick appearance. “You’re all talk and no action, Valtersen,” he says, and raises his chin, his lips curved into a smirk. “Just like a small dog. All bark and no bite.”

Isak pushes him into the bed, looms over him, panting in the effort of not attacking him. “I’m gonna fuck you,” he murmurs, slowly. “I’m gonna ruin you and I’m gonna make you cry, and I’m gonna make sure you can’t even use your legs after I’m done with you.”

Even seems almost small pressed on the mattress like this, long neck exposed and breath coming out in short pants. “I fucking hope so,” he sneers.

They kiss again, and Isak ruts desperately against Even, and it hurts a bit, because their precome is not enough to make the slide smooth, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t fucking care, he just relishes in the way Even shivers, and lets out a shaky breath when Isak bites his bottom lip.

Well, the theory was always that the people do to you what they want you to do to them, after all.

Isak puts a hand on Even’s neck, and grips it carefully, and the answering moan tells him enough. He smirks, and goes down to bite Even’s neck, hand still in place. When he stops, Even has red blotches going down from his neck to his chest, and his eyes closed in bliss.

There’s a bottle of lube conveniently placed on Even’s bedside table. It’s half-empty, and Isak’s mind goes immediately to one of the last videos Even sent him, where he could hear the slick sound of the lube when Even put his fingers in his ass, and suddenly he wants to see that in real life. He takes the bottle and throws it to even, unceremoniously. “But you gotta give me a show, big boy,” he says. “You don’t expect me to prep you, right?”

Prepping someone is usually one of Isak’s favourite activities, but he really, really, _really_ wants to see Even pleasuring himself. He wants to see his long fingers going right into his ass and making a fast work of opening himself up, he wants to watch the impatience on Even’s face, he wants to stop him when he reaches for his cock. And then he wants to roll him up and fuck him like he deserves, like he fucked Isak’s mouth.

Even’s mouth opens like he’s trying to say something, then he seems to think better of it and just smirks. He slicks his fingers and warms up the lube, keeps his gaze trained on Isak when he puts his hand down and starts stretching himself. Isak doesn’t know where to look, whether on his face that starts to show signs of pleasure or down to see what he’s doing and how he has two fingers in his ass, moving them with ease, like he’s stretched himself countless times. He smirks when he sees Isak’s gaze trained on his ass, and puts a third finger inside himself, wincing a bit before starting to move his fingers in earnest.

Isak is almost sorry he’s not the one being fucked, just for the pleasure of having Even’s fingers in him, making him lose himself.

Even makes indeed a fast work of opening himself up, but doesn’t really try and reach his cock, that stays there, hard and leaking, bobbing a bit up and down because of Even’s movements. It’s a mouth-watering sight, honestly. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me or can I hope you fuck me anytime soon?”

Isak rolls his eyes. “Oh my god, shut the fuck up and turn around,” he says, and Even complies, the smirk still firm in its place. He folds himself to present to Isak, knees under his stomach, hands under his head, and then looks at him, raises his eyebrows.

“Well then, whenever you’re ready,” he says.

Isak puts the condom on and guides himself inside Even, and has to stop for a bit because… wow. Even’s warm and tight and clenching a bit involuntarily, and Isak has never felt closer to heaven.

“Is it in?” Even’s voice is taunting, if a bit scratchy, and the moment is broken. Isak grips his hips, hard.

“Shut the fuck up, you can feel it in your throat.” He punctuates his statement with a hard thrust, and Even loses his smirk for a couple of seconds. Isak can see his hands gripping the sheets.

“That’s your—your word against mine,” he answers, and clenches hard on Isak’s cock, making him gasp.

Isak’s gripping so hard that he’ll leave bruises for tomorrow. “You’re the only person that’s still a dick when he has one in his ass.”

Even’s got dark sheets, and they make an amazing contrast with his skin and light hair, and Isak wishes that could be captured in a video, just so he can always watch Even moving under his thrust, gripping the sheets to steer himself.

On a side note, fuck that.

When he bottoms out, Isak reaches out for Even’s hands, and yanks them behind his back. Even goes almost willingly, surprised, and his head ends up a bit pressed on the mattress. Isak smirks. “That’s better,” he says. Even doesn’t answer.

If Even had been almost silent when Isak was sucking him off, now that Isak starts to move in earnest, keeping an almost brutal pace and giving him no pause and no leverage, he lets it all out. He moans high and loud and bites his lips, and his eyes stays at half-mast. It’s honestly a sight. “Is that—all you can do?” he asks at one point, and Isak sees _red_.

He grips his wrists tighter and starts going even faster, punching out another long moan from Even. “Gotta love how you—say that yet you can’t—stop whining,” he murmurs. His breath is coming out in short puffs and occasional moans too, and Even does something resembling a laugh.

“Right back atcha,” he says, and then he bites the sheet, trying to contain himself.

Isak folds himself on Even’s back, takes one hand off Even’s wrists and goes down to stroke Even’s cock. Even jumps and lets out a long moan, lets a _yes_ escape his mouth. Isak smirks, goes to massage his balls, bites his back hard. “Take it,” he murmurs in Even’s ear, but Even’s too gone to care.

He comes for real this time, with a long, drawn out moan, shooting on Isak’s hand, his abs and the sheet. Isak strokes him through the aftershock, then pauses a bit, tastes Even’s come. It’s slightly bitter, but not unpleasant.

“Will you fucking come or do you prefer masturbation, Valtersen?” Even’s voice is weak, but he musters the strength to smirk, and Isak just rolls his eyes.

“You’re a fucking dickhead, I swear to god.” He goes back to his position, losing himself in Even’s heat, feeling close to coming. Even just lies spent on the mattress, eyes closed and mouth hanging open, taking it without a word.

It’s the sight of Even looking well fucked out that makes him lose control in the end; when Isak comes, he blanks out and collapses on top of Even, moving weakly through the aftershock.

He comes down after a bit, and Even has rolled away from him, towards the dry spot on the sheets. Fucking asshole. Isak enjoys the splat that the filled condom makes on the floor, just because of that.

He thinks about going back home, but he’s always useless after he comes, and he doesn’t have the strength to get up from the bed and get dressed and get out of the door and down the stairs and outside. He’s asleep before he’s even finished that thought, wet spot be damned.

 

***

 

Isak wakes up early. Like, way too early.

The curtains are open, and the light comes freely from outside; it must be eight, judging by it, and Even is not on the bed and he can smell waffels. Who the fuck wakes up early after a night like the one they had?

(Isak sometimes does, when it’s a one-night stand, and he really wants to skip the awkward small talk. But he does it when he’s not in his house, not… randomly when he’s comfortable in his bed and took the dry spot the night before.)

He stretches and rubs his eyes, looking around in search of his clothes. He finds them on the desk chair, slung over the back. Even’s not really a messy person, he can see: his room has personality, with random drawings and quotes hung on the walls, but there are no clothes lying around, and the floor looks so clean you could eat there.

Isak’s not the messy person he was in high school, but sometimes he really couldn’t care less about, say, making his bed when it’s going to be unmade the same evening, or pick up that shirt that he’s going to wear in a couple of days anyway. Eskild always says he’s a lost cause.

(And yet, Eskild has taken his fair share of Noora-glares because she had decided she would stop cleaning after anyone during her third year of high school, in her post-William era. It had been much easier on her, but she still wanted the house clean, and made sure to bug everyone to clean.)

He goes in the bathroom still shirtless, and observes the bruises from the night before in the mirror. It looks bad. It looks like a literal bear mauled him, and it’s much worse than usual. The sides of his neck are red and even a bit sore, which is not something that usually happens to him; he’s got bite marks on his collarbones, and two round, blue fingerprint bruises on his arm. Well then. He feels pleasantly sore and sated, at least.

Even is sitting in the kitchen, _Rolf Hansens Utvalgte Kryssord_ opened in front of him, a cup of tea in hand. “There’s coffee on the counter,” he murmurs without raising his gaze. Isak’s already feeling irritated just from being in his presence, but he’s not even human before coffee, so he resorts to grunting and taking the coffee that’s on the counter.

Caffeine first, arguing later.

There’s some indie acoustic playlist playing lowly from the iPod dock; Isak doesn’t recognise anything, but it could feel almost nice, a strange shift from routine compared to how mornings are at the kollektiv, chaotic and rushed and always too late to classes. He wouldn’t change that for the world, honestly, but sometimes waking up to silence and having the time to start in little increment is nice.

He’s leaning on the counter, absently drinking his cup of coffee, when Even gets up and takes out the waffels from the hotplate. He puts them in two plates, takes out jam, Nutella and two peaches from the fridge, then sits again, bites his pencil, distracted by the crossword he’s doing.

Isak would go, but the waffels look delicious. He sits down, starts cutting up fruits while Even does the same. “You didn’t have to do it,” is what he croaks out, voice still unused from sleep. Mamma would be ashamed of him.

Even just raises one eyebrow. “I’m not a savage, and you’re still a host in this house.”

Isak snorts. Yeah, not a savage. Nice one. “Okay,” he says though, because he’s tired and irritable and doesn’t want to make things worse. The sex was amazing and tiring, and he slept so little, and he just wants to go home and sleep the day away before even starting to internalise what happened.

Even raises his gaze this time, sighs loudly. “Not like you even care or do the same, of course,” he says evenly, and Isak stabs his waffel piece in the effort not to explode.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” Isak breathes deeply. The music is still going in the background, and it’s starting to grind on his nerves. “You don’t even fucking know me.”

“Know enough about your education to speak, though.” Even looks at him, raises his upper lip. “Props to your parents, I guess.”

Isak throws the rest of his coffee cup at him.

He doesn’t feel calmer afterwards. He’s breathing heavily, and all the exercises Sana taught him to control his rage bouts would be useless right now. “First of all, _bitch_ ,” he starts, and his voice is trembling. “First of all, you shut the fuck up on my parents because you know nothing. Second,” he gets up, just to feel like he has the upper hand. “You’re the fucking one to speak about education, going around and talking about people behind their back.”

Even is looking at him, dripping coffee and seething quietly. Isak couldn’t care less. “You’re so fucking deluded, Isak,” he tells him. “You’re making shit up just to justify your behaviour with me.”

“Don’t make yourself the fucking victim. It can work with others, doesn’t work with me.” Isak raises his chin, defiant. “I’m not making shit up, it’s something I fucking _heard_. And I wasn’t alone, Jonas knows you’re just a big scam.”

Ed Sheeran is playing quietly in the background. Even gets up, jams on the stop button and the kitchen falls into an eerie silence. “What the fuck are you talking about,” he says, no inflection in his tone. Isak crosses his hands.

“I’m talking about the night we met, about what you said about me to Yossi. About how I had a stick up my ass and you didn’t find me interesting.” Even’s eyes are wide. Isak smirks, bitter. “The bathroom window is literally on the balcony, and I was there smoking with Jonas.”

Even is silent for a long moment, eyes closed, hand in front of his mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ,” is what he says in the end. “So that’s what all was about.” His voice is quiet now, resigned. All the irritation and fight seems to have abandoned him. He leans on the counter, just breathing. “I can—I owe an explanation,” he murmurs.

Isak sits back down, feeling the silence stretching and almost suffocating him. “You do,” he says. He wishes he still had his coffee, because he really needs it right now.

“At the end of last year, I broke up with my long-term girlfriend,” Even starts, without looking at him. “I started dating Sonja when we were fifteen. People thought we were going to get married. She wasn’t a bad person, not per se, but she did—she did have bad traits. She wasn’t good for me.” He pauses, takes a deep breath. “And in the end, things didn’t work out. And well, you can imagine how—after that, one needs a pause from thinking about dating, you know.”

Isak shrugs. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands all of a sudden. “A bit of soul-searching.”

Even nods. “Yeah, ‘s what I did anyway. Soul-searching, finding myself again as a sole entity, all that jazz. But,” his voice wavers a bit. “The downside of having friends who care that much about you is that sometimes they push their coping methods on you without realising.” His wet shirt adheres completely to his chest, and he plays with it a bit. “So I had Mutta who wanted me to hook up with people, because that was his way to get over a break-up, and he convinced Elias and Adam to help him.

“For months, every single person I met was thrust into my arms; I was left alone with strangers with some excuses, brought to blind dates without knowing, and everybody was being… overbearing, asking a lot about my love life and how I was doing and if I found someone I liked at least a bit. Five times a day, more or less. I tried going on a couple of dates with people chosen by them, and it wasn’t bad per se, but especially Yossi was very protective of me and, you know. What’s the point of going to dates your best friends pushed for if then your best friend is going to scare them off?”

“That doesn’t—sound nice,” Isak says. Even snorts, not unkindly.

“That’s an understatement. I love them, and they did it out of the goodness of their heart, but I really could not take it. And well. I’m not going to lie, you were the first person that piqued my interest and I didn’t want—anyone to put their nose into that, you know. If they smelled my interest I was fucked.”

“Uh.” Isak is speechless. “Okay?”

“So the only thing left to do was lying out of my ass, and tell Yossi I definitely wasn’t interested in you, nothing was happening, not at all. And in my plans if something happened with us he would have known when he couldn’t really scare you off anymore, you know.”

Isak closes his eyes. “It makes sense,” he concedes reluctantly. “I would have done the same.”

Even coughs and scratches the back of his neck. “You overhearing wasn’t—planned, you know. I know it’s not an excuse, but it was just—it wasn’t real. Not that it matters, because you thought it was, I know.”

Isak nods. “I’m sorry, I don’t really—I don’t really know what to say right now.” He feels like there’s a big jumble in his head, and he has things to reconsider, after months of despising Even, he can’t just turn around and pretend everything is okay. “I’m sorry for how I acted, as well,” he says. His voice is scratchy, and he coughs a bit, blushing.

“It’s okay. Me too.” Even looks at his shirt. “I’m going to change, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, uh,” Isak scratches his hair. “Sorry about that too, by the way.”

Even does that almost-smile with his lips pulled inside, then goes back to his room. The silence almost hurts Isak’s ears.

He tries to make himself occupied, cleans up the mess he made with the coffee, throwing away the coffee-soaked waffels and putting the cups in the sink. He’s wiping the table when Even comes back. “I can, uh. I can cook breakfast again,” he says. Isak shakes his head.

“I’m going back home, man. Sorry, it’s just—” He gestures uselessly with the rag. “You know.”

Even nods. “I know. Don’t worry. Uh. Have a safe trip?”

“Yeah, uh. Talk later?” Isak makes a face. “We do need to, like, finish talking it out maybe.”

“Yep. Definitely. Don’t worry.”

Isak feels like breathing again only when he’s out on the street.

 

***

 

 

 

***

 

“That’s—uh. That’s something,” Says Jonas.

Isak rolls his eyes. “If you’re talking about us _fucking it out_ , Jonas, I swear to god—”

Jonas coughs. “I mean. Yes, that too. But no, I meant in general. The whole situation.” He pauses, smirks. “Though I must say, I’m happy you two finally fucked it out.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” Isak rolls his eyes again. “I just don’t know what to do now. Like I have a pretty big case of stupiditis, but like. I don’t know.”

“Well, probably you just need, you know. A bit of time, maybe.” Jonas flops on Isak’s bed, looks at him upside down. “Now that you’ve discovered he’s not actually a terrible person, you need a bit of adjustment. Before marrying and having babies, I mean.”

“Oh my god, Jonas.” Jonas laughs at Isak’s facepalm. “I don’t even want kids.”

“It’s cool that of all the things, this is the one you decide to contradict.”

“Whatever.” Isak shrugs. “I have to think about things, dude. I don’t even know if we would work well together.”

“Which is why I told you to think about it long and hard.”

Isak snorts. _Hard_. “Alright,” he says. “Fancy a game of _Halo_?”

“Be prepared to be beaten to the ground, dude.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO. FUCKING FINALLY. They fucked it out, they started to talk it out, and the down(?)side is that I have discovered I do need another chapter to make them finish talking it out after all. I'll see if it'll be a chapter 6+epilogue or if it will be a chapter 6 period. Only time will tell.  
> I'm sorry I made you wait so long??? Like honestly, I really am. But between the fact that it's summer and the fact that I'm always super slow when it comes to writing m/m smut (esp bc hatesex has to thread the line of "both parties are enjoying it" without any dubcon or being too tender, so like)... Well this is the result anyway!
> 
> Ah, lmao, since I know there needs to be a statement about this: I headcanon basically all the people I ship as versatile and/or switch (where BDSM is concerned), because sometimes I want to write top one person, sometimes I want to write top the other person. This is the case with Isak and Even; they're versatile, and if they're into BDSM, they're switches. I know fandom goes rough and hard on this topic, and like... it's not something I want to approach, especially not something I want to dictate my creativity. This has been a PSA.
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter anyway!!


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO OMG I'M SO SORRY THIS WAS ABANDONED FOR SO LONG. I have Reasons though. Like real life reasons because I had a huge breakdown and I had to find a psych and start taking meds and then everything has been university and stuff, and it's just been so confused.  
> And I had the start of this chapter written but I suddenly forgot about what they still had to discuss so I kept staring at the page like ?????????? and I don't even know why I remembered. Well. Anyway. Have at it, fuccin f i n a l l y!!!!!!!!!!

The first time Even and Isak see each other after the whole hate-sex-hate-breakfast debacle (Isak’s not good at naming things, okay?) is at the whole group’s get together and it’s awkward as fuck.

They’re not at the kollektiv for once, because Jonas had something going on at the skate park, and they decided to hang out together outside, for once, because the weather was nice enough to share joints and chill listening to the gentle breeze blowing.

Isak is doing just that, eyes closed and head pleasantly heavy from the weed, a bit high but not enough to start doing stuff, and he feels someone sitting very close to him.

He says _someone_ because he doesn’t really want to admit that he recognises Even with his nose alone.

Even doesn’t talk, and Isak doesn’t open his eyes; he stays there, breathing deeply, trying to get used to Even’s scent so close to him. It’s amazing how it’s already familiar, how his sense of smell can make it a little more pungent, then make him go back to that night they spent together without fail.

Smell is a strange sense, thinks Isak. No other sense can make you go back to your memories that well, no other sense can make you feel so immersed in a situation you’ve already lived. No other sense can fuck you up as much as smell, so to speak.

Even doesn’t seem to be in a hurry, either. He stays there, and Isak can hear the scratch of a pencil on paper, but no other movement. Isak wishes the moment could stretch it out forever, he wishes he was able to say it.

“I’m really bad at communicating,” is what he says instead.

The scratching of the pencil stops for a couple of seconds. Then resumes. “Take all the time you want,” says Even.

Isak doesn’t react. He’s not sure what’s happening, he’s not sure where they stand, and he’s not sure he’s capable to talk about it. He stays there, breeze on his face, like a cat in the sun. “Why did you come to me?” he says in the end.

Even doesn’t stop drawing. “Well,” he says. “We did say we had to talk, didn’t we?”

“Hmm,” murmurs Isak. “Yeah, I mean—”

Even chuckles. “You’re really bad at communicating, I know. But I can tell you something and then you decide what to do with it, what about it?”

“That sounds like a good deal.” A Good Adult Deal.

“I would like to try and pursue something with you. Something serious.”

Isak is silent for a long few seconds. Then, he smiles, opens his eyes. Even is looking at him, eyes big and open and expectant. A Good Adult Deal.

“I mean, of course we don’t know if it’s actually going to work but—” Even makes a large gesture with the hand holding his pencil. Isak spies his drawing, it’s Jonas jumping with his skateboard.

“You know I fucked up big time, and I’m sorry for that. What about coffee someday?”

Even’s expression opens more, he starts smiling big. “Someday?”

Isak shrugs. “You decide when.”

“I fucked up big time too, and I’m sorry for that,” says Even, then gets up. “I’ll text you when.”

 

***

 

They go for coffee just a couple days later. Even had texted him the same evening, and they decided to go to a fancy place downtown, one that charges extra just for breathing their air. _I’m not that kind of person_ , had assured Even, _but they make a carrot cake that’s to die for_. So they go there, and they order a tea that comes into a silver tea drainer with a porcelain teapot, and they share a slice of carrot cake (which is indeed to die for, Even was totally right).

“So,” say even, his upper lip frosted with a bit of buttercream and Isak totally doesn’t want to lick it clean. “Do you want to talk about classic first date stuff or do you want to finish talking about us?”

Isak almost chokes on is tea, but manages a smile nonetheless. “So, Even. Tell me a little bit about yourself.”

Even laughs. “Well I was born in Bergen and I’m 27 and my biggest wish is world peace. Oh, isn’t this Miss Norway?” He asks, feigning surprise. Isak can’t stop laughing.

“I like how you’re so bold when communicating,” he says. He picks the piece of carrot cake, doesn’t really look at Even.

“Well, I figured that since normal-non-communication didn’t work with us, better be blunt and get away with it, you know.” Even sips his tea. “It’s not easy, especially not when I spent the last few months thinking you were my personal hell, but you know.”

“Well, same to that, so at least you’re not alone. I felt like dying when I—when I sent you that picture.”

Even becomes red up till his ears. “Honestly, I need to know why you did it.”

“Because I was trying to send it to Eva. No joke, mate. You’re the next in my contact list.”

“No way.” Even scratches his nose, looks down at the table. “I totally thought you got a whiff of how much I was attracted to you—I mean I thought you were my hell because you hated how desperate I looked that first evening anyway, and—” He stops, waves his hands around uselessly. “I thought you were just doing it to rile me up, to assert your power over me. It’s embarrassing when I say it like this.”

In another moment Isak would have laughed. Now, he just shrugs. “I thought you were mocking me because of my mistake, teasing him with all that you’ve got,” he says easily. “So, hard same, in a way.”

Even laughs, surprised. His cheeks are still rosy, and it’s a _very_ good look on him. Isak wishes he could take a picture. “Well then. And of course we’re two stubborn fucks and we couldn’t stop messaging each other. Of course.”

“Well,” Isak takes a bite of the carrot cake. It’s heavenly, he wants to die in it. “I mean, I’m very happy that we didn’t decide to just stop messaging each other, honestly.”

“True that.” Even smiles beatifically. “I didn’t expect that, to be honest.”

“Me neither.”

They stay in silence for a bit, piano music in the background. Isak feels calm, in no rush to speak, no hurry to chase away the silence. He could fall asleep just like that, in the booth of the coffee, but probably they would make him pay for the fact that he did.

Even smiles at him on the other side of the booth; he looks equally as calm, and Isak just wishes he could bottle up this moment.

 

***

 

“So what are you and Even doing?” Jonas plays slow arpeggios on his guitar, joint in his mouth making him talk a bit weird.

Isak shrugs. “I don’t know. Trying it out, maybe. I hope.”

“And how is it going?”

“I can’t believe I thought he was a snob.” Isak laughs. “He genuinely thinks that The Mummy movie from 1999 is a misunderstood masterpiece. And I don’t mean it in the trash sense, I mean he’s actually capable of talking about it for ages if nobody stops him. And The Skeleton Key? Oh, man, that movie holds all the secrets of the western world, according to him. He forced me to watch it with him and then wanted to talk about what it teaches us about believing or not believing, and the idea of god. Honestly, he’s just a dork.”

Jonas raises his gaze, passes the joint to him. “You really like him, uh?”

Isak takes a deep breath before taking a drag. “Yeah bro, I really do.”

 

***

 

When they arrive at Delicatessen, Isak can’t shake off the impression that Even chose the place. It’s in Grünerløkka, which is already a place that’s so Even that hurts. And the place is a tapas restaurant, so pretentious that Isak could die.

Nonetheless, the place is nice, just like Even is hipster but nice, he guesses.

When they see the huge table with the others already seated, Jonas almost skips towards Mikha who left him a place. Isak smiles, then looks, and sees that the other free place is exactly next to Even.

“Did you save a place for me?” he asks in a whisper, as if the other didn’t notice that they didn’t insult each other anymore, as if the others didn’t notice the looks, the words, the touches.

Even smiles so big that his eyes become slits. “Nobody wanted to take it. Well,” he says after a second. “Magnus tried to sit, but Eva slapped him on the back of his neck so hard that he lost his balance and fell on the ground.”

“Now, that’s a scene I would have liked to see.”

“If I’d known I’d have filmed it just for you.” And even if he’s joking, if he’s just so corny and Isak knows it, he can’t avoid blushing a bit, and lowers his gaze.

“How courteous of you,” he says lightly, hoping to dissipate the potato he feels in his throat, but Even realises and puts his hand on Isak’s knee, caressing it lightly.

Useless to say that Isak doesn’t succeed.

“Okay my dudes, are you ready to order?” Elias takes the matters into his own hands, and Isak would like to concentrate on the menu, but the heat that he feels irradiating from Even’s hand on his knee is too distracting at the moment, he can’t really think about it.

“I would go for the beetroot salad, if I were you,” says Even gently. He’s caressing his knee, his hand almost unmoving. “The last time I tried it, it was great.”

“O—okay,” says Isak, then he coughs a bit. “What you said.”

Even chuckles. “I’ll take the manchego, do you want to have a taste of it?”

Oh Isak would like to have a taste alright.

He raises his gaze and sees Mahdi looking at him, his face slowly opening in a Cheshire cat-like grin. Isak flips him off, and Mahdi just answers doing a kissy face. Isak opens his phone, texts a quick _imma kill ur mother_ to Mahdi, puts it back in his pocket.

Mahdi opens the text and just laughs right in Isak’s face, winks when Isak flips him off again.

“Everything okay?” Even asks, his lips pursed like he’s trying not to laugh too. Isak squints.

“Just people being people, I guess.”

Even laughs and starts caressing Isak’s knee with more purpose, his little finger skirting on the inside of Isak’s thigh. “Let them be,” he says, and Isak feels his face in flames.

It’s not that he minds being public, honestly. He’s not that kind of person, not anymore.

Not that there’s anything wrong being that kind of person, he reminds himself, but having the freedom of being public in front of his friend, of demonstrating affection in public, that’s priceless, and that’s something he fought hard to have, and he won’t let others take it out from him.

His salad arrives, and he’s sure it tastes fantastic, because the place is pretentious enough to make things that generally taste good, but he can’t concentrate on its taste at all, can only concentrate on the heat spreading from Even’s hand to the inside of his thigh, and can feel himself starting to get hard. He kind of wants to fight it, but then Even’s little finger skirts up, up, up, and stops exactly on his dick, and he can see Even beaming into his plate.

Well then.

He tries to ignore Even’s hand, tries to eat his salad as fast as he can and concentrate on the chit chat around him. Everybody is having fun, Mutta apparently passed the selections for a super exclusive photography trip to the Svalbard, and Magnus’ dad bought the family tickets for a trip to Beirut because he doesn’t want the summer to end. Magnus is saying that his mum is kinda anxious for the trip, and that’s understandable, and Isak even manages a nod of understanding in his general direction.

He can’t really do much more though, because Even’s finger doesn’t really move, just stays there, pressing a bit, and now Isak is at full hardness, and oh my god, the fact that his friend could see if they only paid attention is making him even more hard, and he honestly should have imagined he’d be an exhibitionist, but he never really thought about that.

Even keeps his hand there, and he does it in the most natural way there is, and Isak supposes people just thinks that he’s tenderly caressing him, even if he’s sure he must look like a mess. He resolves to just keep his head in the plate and eat, trying not to raise suspicions.

He’s the last one to get up when the meal is finished, Even just before him, leaving his hand for a last touch while he gets up.

Isak uses his hoodie to cover his boner for the rest of the night.

 

***

 

“Ike, would you keep me company for a cigarette?” Eva looks at him with doe eyes.

Isak nods. Noora, Eskild, Jonad and Mikha are totally entrenched in _Dirty Money_ and cursing loudly hedge funds and the like. He’s adapted to the political watching of things, but, like Eva, they will never be really his thing, and he doesn’t care if he misses a piece.

They get on the balcony and Eva lights up her cigarette. She looks at him with a smirk. “So, Even,” she starts.

“My longest deep sigh ever,” replies Isak without missing a beat, and Eva laughs.

“I mean, Ike, you can’t really expect nobody to ask. Honest to god.”

He shrugs. It’s true, he supposes. “We talked,” he says. “It was all a big misunderstanding, and we made up. And he’s cute.”

“I suppose,” Eva hums. “You’ve been quite chummy lately.”

“I suppose,” Isak parrots. “As I said. He’s cute.”

Eva just smiles, blows smoke towards the sky. “I know how it feels,” she reminds him. “I mean, not how it feels to start dating someone you hated, but I know how it feels when they’re _cute_.”

Isak smiles. He remembers Noora with her, remembers all the doubts and the looks, remember having to stop Eskild to announce vocally his support, and remembers Eva beaming at him the first time Noora kissed her in public. “I know,” he says.

“Good,” Eva murmurs. She puts her head on his shoulder, her arm around his waist. Isak kisses her hair, sniffs it a bit.

“Did you steal my shampoo again dude?”

“Not my fault it’s the best thing ever.” Eva doesn’t even look abashed.

“How many times do I have to tell you to use Noora’s?”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Noora uses yours.”

Isak snorts. “I’m suing.”

“Or you could fill it with pubes.”

“Ew, Eva, gross. Do you think I want to wash my head with pubes?”

“Well, if they’re your pubes…” Eva trails off, her shoulders shaking with laughter. Isak shoves her lightly.

“Gross.”

She finishes her cigarette, still laughing. “You know,” she murmurs. “I’m happy for you.”

Isak smiles big. “Thank you,” he says.

He keeps his hand around her shoulders when they go back inside.

 

***

 

_I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain._

Eskild opens the door without knocking, and Isak takes his eyes off the screen, squinting. “Dude, I’m in the middle of a movie,” he says.

(Of course, it’s Even who told him to watch _Blade Runner_ , because that way he can begin to build up a culture of cinematic cyberpunk and they can watch _Blade Runner 2049_ and _Altered Carbon_ together and it will be fun.

Isak is not sure he really likes Blade Runner, but it’s not a shitty movie, he supposes.)

“Yeah, baby Jesus, you have someone for you.” Eskild smirks, then his gaze sweeps across the room. “At least it doesn’t stink anymore,” he says.

“Says the one who had Noora change his dried come sheets,” replies Isak. Eskild just disappears, and Even stands on the threshold in his place.

“May I?” he asks. “Elias wanted to see Eskild, and I was with him, so…” He trails off, seemingly unsure.

Isak’s mouth is suddenly very dry. “Um. Of course. I was. I was watching Blade Runner.”

Even’s expression opens. “Oh, amazing. We can finish watching it together.” Isak just scoots over on his bed and pats the spot left free. Even takes off his shoes and snuggles up to him.

“Okay, go,” he says, and Isak tries his best not to think it’s the first time Even is in his room, and they’re alone, and he’s on Isak’s bed, and he can feel his warmth. He presses play instead.

_Time to die_.

 

“So, what did you think about it?”

“I mean, it was… something. A slow something.”

Even snorts. “It was 1982, it’s understandable. But now we can watch the sequel together.”

Even has a point.

They’re cuddled up together under his blanket, and it’s fairly late, because Even kept pausing the movie to comment on something and tell Isak about behind the scenes stuff. Isak kept expecting Eskild to knock at his door to tell Even that Elias is ready to go, but Even looks so relaxed and at home in his room, and seems like he has no intention of going back at his.

“I think it poses interesting philosophical questions, but I don’t think it’s a real cyberpunk movie, I don’t know.”

“Well, it’s what was cyberpunk during the 80s. Taking from Dick, and then evolving into Gibson and his Neuromancer, yadda yadda.”

“Well, but it’s quite different in literature, isn’t it?” Isak rolls on the bed to face Even. “It doesn’t really matter if a book is slow—unless we’re talking Crichton slow, of course, because you have your pace reading a book already.”

“Well, I do like Crichton slow, to be honest.” Even bites his lip. “I mean, can be annoying reading three pages on how the red soil is burning the eyes of the dude discovering the dinosaur fossil, but it does help setting the scene, if you know what I mean.”

Isak makes a face. “I mean, I suppose. It does seem more real like that. It’s just that it reminds me too much of lab reports and uni work, which is not something I want to be reminded when I read a novel.”

Even laughs. “Yeah, no, understandable,” he says. “But maybe I should have told you it wasn’t an action movie, Blade Runner.”

“Maybe it was during the 80s, but you know, it _has_ aged,” Isak says. Even snorts.

“Don’t worry, the sequel might satisfy you under this point of view.”

“Ryan Gisling might satisfy me under this point of view, more like,” mutters Isak, and Even grins, mirth in his eyes.

“So, that’s what you like? Tall, blonde, muscles and action?” His eyes are glinting, and his hand comes on Isak’s side like it’s the most natural thing of the world, and rests there, possessive. Isak’s sure Even felt the shiver running down his spine, because it was quite noticeable.

“Tall, blonde, yes,” he says, coyly. “Muscles and action, not so important.”

Even squeezes his side. “Hmmm. Good,” he murmurs. His voice is lower, slower, and his face closer and closer to Isak’s.

He puts his hand on Even’s neck, squeezes a bit experimentally, hears his breath hitch. “Why, what do you like?” He’s still coy, still playing.

Even pulls Isak towards him, and Isak feels he’s hard, moves a bit experimentally. “Well, I like brats who study medicine. Can you believe.”

Isak grins, slow and Cheshire-like. “That’s a broad description,” he says. Even thrusts against his cock, just to make him stutter on the last syllable.

“Tall and blonde is a broad description too.” He raises his eyebrows, bites his lower lip.

Isak rolls his eyes. “What about tall, blonde, and on my bed in this precise moment?”

Even grins. “Less broad, yes, thank you. Brat who studies medicine.”

Isak squeezes his neck again. “Good,” he murmurs.

“I missed your cock, you know,” says Even, lightly. “I missed being full, and I missed you moving over me.”

Isak swallows, hard. “I missed filling you, for what matters,” he says, attempting for the same light tone Even’s going for, and failing miserably.

“Well then.” Even is speaking on Isak’s lips, his words barely a whisper. “Why don’t we take off our clothes, and then I suck you off, and then you prep me and make me come at least three times? Does that sound good?”

Isak nods, his throat dry. “Very good,” he murmurs. “Can I kiss you now?”

Even rolls over, and Isak feels settled with his weight over him. “Yes, please.”

He can’t be blamed if he makes their teeth clash when he launches himself on Even’s lips.

***

 

“Turns out I was right.” Noora is already in the kitchen when Isak comes in, still sore from the night and full of bite marks. She doesn’t look at him, but she keeps smiling.

“I mean, you’re always right,” says Isak automatically. “About what?”

“Hate-sex really did solve your situation. Can you pass me the milk?” Noora waves the knife towards him, like she hasn’t just said anything.

Isak obliges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This was my first longfic in English and even with all the stuff that happened I could finally complete it. It was thanks to a lot of people who have been with me along this way, and I'm grateful for everything (and if you're reading, you know who you are <3)  
> And it was alto thanks to you, my dear people reading, because you kept encouraging me and you kept giving me motivation not to abandon the story. Thank you so much, I don't even know how to tell you how much I'm grateful for that.  
> I hope you enjoyed that, and if you want to chat with me you can always find me on tumblr or twitter!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this basically was to set up the _hate_ stuff because otherwise I'd need to use a big flashback and that's not really my thing, not with Isak already going into tangents in parenthesis, it would have been messy :P
> 
> Also, idk if you caught it, but Mikael is enby, and uses they/them as pronouns!
> 
> Anyway!! What do you think about it? Did you like it? Remember that kudos and comments are what keeps the author going! And if you liked it, come and say hi on [tumblr](http://nooradeservedbetter.tumblr.com/), or consider reblogging the [fic post](http://nooradeservedbetter.tumblr.com/post/162405607311)!


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